Norway til Dovre falls
by Shrizyne
Summary: Norway could not believe his eyes as the brit crossed the finishing line, he could not believe it. He heard the cheering from the other side of the room, and he wanted to join in because it was an amazing feat, but he couldn't think of anything but the stupid bet. Oneshots about Norway. Historical and others. Rated for language. Disclaimer: Hetalia does not belong to me.
1. Andrew Musgrave vs Norway

17.01.2014 NM skiing, sprint

"Fandens jævla oldemor med ei satans spekkhoggerkukk i den forbanna rånefitta si!"he hit the space button as if it had personally offended him, pausing the sending after the fourth man went over the finishing line. The cheering from the other side of the room attracted attention, but Norway only registered it in the back of his mind as he rewatched the sprint. A scotsman. A brit. A foreigner. How could some... some foreigner just go and win! And the way he did it, outclassing his people so embarrasingly easy. He groaned and rubbed his face, then rested his head in his hands. Someone poked him in the side. Norway did not even bother turning his head to glare at the Dane.

"Ya okay, Norge?" the Idiot asked. Deep breath, in, out.

"Of course I am, why wouldn't I be," he hissed, too shocked to strangle him. Sitting up straight he looked over to the other side of the room where England and Scotland where leaning over the same PC, and by some miracle (fucking Musgrave) they were not arguing. England looked up and met his glare with a ceshire grin.

 _Ping!_ A message. He took forth his phone, handling it as if it was a deadly disease. He frowned at the message resisting the urge to look back at the insufferable smug bastards in the couch on the other side of the room.

 _To Norway_

 _Remember the deal..._

 _You may begin._

 _From England_

'Faen brenn i Hælvete,' Norway thought furiously (not realizing how little sense that made) as he opened a new window and searched for the lyrics. 'How stupid is it possible to be... and such misfortune, the one time I actually bet and losing so spectacularly.'

He found the lyrics and opened a fiddle case, plucking the strings carefully to make sure everything was in order. As much as he hated what he was about to do he would not let his precious fiddle sound anything but perfect.

Taking a deep breath he stood up and worked the bow over the strings conjuring a hauntingly beautiful melody. He was the best fiddler in the whole damned world, if he focused on that then maybe it would be less torterous. Then he started singing and everyone in the room turned towards him.

"Oh flower of Scotland," he sang, his voice picking up where the music ended. A couple of strokes then he continued, painfully aware of the stares. He blushed faintly. "When will we see your like again?" Another stroke and matching his voice perfectly to the music. "That fought and died for, your wee bit hill and glenn, and stood against him... Proud Edward's army, and sent him homeward... Te think again..." He took a break, working the melody on the violin.

"The hills are bare now," He picked up again, a bit of magic in his voice to convey the right amount of sadness. "The autumn leaves, lie thick and still... O'er land that is lost now, that those so dearly held who stood against him, proud Edward's army... And sent him homeward, te think again..." He did not look at anyone, staring at some very interesting point at the wall, just where it met the high ceiling.

"Those days are past now, and in the past they must remain," he song with feeling, glaring briefly at a the red-head before directing his gaze towards same far-away spot again. "But we can still rise now, and be that nation again! That stood against him, proud Edward's army, and sent him homeward, te think again..." How embarrasing. The whole room was silent as he changed the tune. Several nations raised an eyebrow or two as they recognized the melody.

"God save our gracious Queen,

Long live our noble Queen

God bless the Queen.

Send her victorious,

Happy and glorious,

Long too reign over us,

God save the Queen!" Then he stopped, letting his fingers run over the strings to create some sort of natural closure to the strange performance. Finally he sat down and hid his blushing face in his hands, but not before seeing the smug looks exhanged between the Englishman and the Scott. They'd never let him forget that one time a Scott won the sprint in the Norwegian Championship.

Faens Skotte.

However, he couldn't be only Scottish? Scotts aren't that good at skiing, that's a fact. Quick as lighnting he whipped up Wikipedia and found Andrew Musgrave's page.

Hah!

He studies at NTNU, and goes for Røa! Citizenship is just a formality, if he trains with Sundby then he should be good. Now about that citizenship...

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Translations:

Fandens jævla oldemor med ei satans spekkhoggerkukk i den forbanna rånefitta si! - The devils motherfucking greatgrandmother with Satan's orcadick in her cursed boarpussy!

Faen brenn i Hælvete – The devil burn in Hell

Faens skotte – Fucking scot

author's note

This is my first story, I hope you enjoyed it. Please review.

I would like to clear up a little something. Norway is not angry because a scot won the Norwegian Championship (NM), but because he lost a bet he had made while drunk with England and Scotland.


	2. long live the Norwegian King of Norway

25 years rule

King Harald 5 of Norway. My king the last twenty-five years. My Norwegian king. My first Norwegian king. I remember it clearly, how I loved Olav and Haakon, but in the end I will always hold the trueborn Norwegian closest to my heart. It is really a bit ridiculous, being so old and so young at the same time. It feels like forever since I was poor and hungry, like I've always been rich and well-fed. Sometimes I can even forget how little time has passed since I was but a territory, to be sold and suppressed at my owners will.

In 1905 my people voted on who they wanted for king, Prince Christian Frederik of Denmark and Iceland were chosen. He and his wife, Princess Maud of Wales and their young son moved to Norway and changed their names accordingly, thus King Haakon 7 and Queen Maud became the first Norwegian king and queen in several hundred years. Maud was my first queen since 1319 who wasn't also queen of Denmark or Sweden. The people loved them. I loved them, they were the symbol of the resistance during the war...

Then there was King Olav 5, popular among the people. He was one of the people, he took the bus and the train, he skied in the Marka and he was generally nice and welcoming. They call him the 'People's King' and he was voted to the 'Norwegian of the Century.

But when his son, my King Harald, was born he was the first norwegian prince born as a norwegian citizen in Norway in 567 years. The first since Olav Håkonsson in 1380. His mother was norwegian born and bred, his wife is norwegian born and bred and his children, his daughter-in-law and his grandchildren are norwegian. Finally.

Finally my king is mine. That was my first thought on the 17. of January 1991, the day King Olav 5 died. I felt bad afterwards, for I loved my King and we were close friends, but I cannot deny that that was my first thought when the TV-sending was interrupted by black words. 'The King is dead', then a minute later 'Long live the King'. And my Harald was king.

That day was twentyfive years ago today, and here I am. Standing outside the Palace, watching the celebrations. Kids of all ages playing in the snow. Skiing, snowboarding, ski jumping, taking the ice slide and generally having fun.

Young Prince Magnus are coming towards me with huge smile on his cute little face. I know his sister wont be to far behind him, and I nearly smile.

"Lukas! Did you see that! I got three meters!" the ten-year-old boy has red cheeks and he is covered in snow after several falls, but who cares? It's winter. I nodded and took his knitted hat, Marius-patterned, to beat off some of the snow.

"I saw, it was good. If you try you'll jump four before the torch relay."

"Are you gonna watch me?" he asked. This time I did smile and reached out a hand to ruffle his hear before giving him his hat.

"Of course, I'll always be there for you," I answered, the last part to his back as he skated back to the slope.

"Is he getting better?" asked a girl suddenly. I nearly started and turned with a smile still on my face to greet my little Princess. The eleven year old girl who would probably rule as my first Norwegian ruling queen ever, my second ruling queen after Margrete, the first Queen of a united Norway and Denmark.

"He is."

"Uncle Lukas?"

"Hm?"

"Could we have a sleepover at your home?" she asked. I looked at her. My future Queen Ingrid. As if I would ever deny her anything.

"Of course, whenever you want, just ask your father first." And when she ran towards her parents and grandparents, that happy smile on her face, and when my king smiled at me, then I knew it was worth it. I turned towards the winter playground, relaxing to the sound of my children laughing. The Nordics would come to dinner, and Belgium, Netherlands, Spain, England, Scotland, Wales, Northern Ireland, Ireland, Germany, Greece, Bulgaria, Russia, America, France and Canada.

To many to keep it peaceful, but it did not matter. Not right now. Because right now I will listen to childrens laughter, watch their smiles and their games and I will celebrate my freedom and my King.

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Author's note

Today is, if you haven't already guessed, the Norwegian King and Queens 25th anniversary as monarchs of Norway. The day is celebrated with games outside the Royal Palace where anyone who wants can come and join. The Royal family will be there, as will several star athletes.

No tranlations today, but I will explain the list of countries at the ending. It's basically a list over everyone who has aided the Royal family or who are a part of the extended Royal family. Norway, Denmark, Sweden, Greece, Great Britain and Ireland and Russia has by marriage had ruling families that are related. It's all second cousins, third cousins, first cousins, aunts, uncles, in-laws etc.

The Danish and Norwegian part of that family are from northern Germany, while the Swedish is from France. America housed the crownprince's family during the second world war and rulers of Belgium, Netherlands, Spain, Greece, Bulgaria, Sweden, Denmark and Norway has been godparents of Crownprince Haakon Magnus, Princess Ingrid Alexandra and Prince Sverre Magnus.

And Canada is there because... vikings were the first to visit North America? Eh, at least I didn't forget him, that has to count.


	3. a most useful Christmas Present

Thanks to guest reviewer I am now uploading this chapter again, hopefully you can read it now.

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December 24th 1969, Stockholm

"Norway, it's for you," Sweden said, offering the phone to the poorer nation. Norway cast a reluctant glance at the food, so much of it, before leaving the table and accepting the phone.

"Ja," he said as a greeting, he was silent a bit as the other spoke and the Nordics did not think too much of it until his coffee cup slipped and broke against the floor sending scalding coffee and glass shrapnel flying through the room. He didn't seem to notice. He just stood there, staring at nothing with the phone to his ear. Sweden hurriedly took it away from him, afraid that he would drop it too, and quickly apologized to whoever it was on the other end before ending the call.

"Hej Norge~ You okay?" Denmark asked, waving a hand before the frozen nation's face. Norway shook his head violently before replying.

"Yes, of course I am fine. Excuse me." He then proceeded to walk out of the room, broken glass crunching under his mended socks, and lock himself in the bathroom from where only second later could be heard the unmistakable sound of cheering.

Tino sighed and began cleaning up the mess while Sweden cleaned off the table. It only about half a minute before Norway joined them again. He raised an eyebrow at the mess.

"Who spilled the coffee?" he asked, aghast that someone could waste expensive coffee and a good cup that could hold for years.

"You did," Finland answered. Norway lifted another eyebrow secretly glad it wasn't one of his own.

"I better get another cup then," he said, walking through the glass again and into the kitchen. He passed Berwald on his way to the coffee pot, or at least he tried to, but the larger nation stopped him with a hand on his shoulder and pointed to the floor where he had walked. Norway turned and saw the bloody footprints.

"Oh." He would have to mend the socks again, hopefully he would be able to wash off the blood...

...

"So, what was that?" Denmark asked. They were all seated in the living room, watching Finland pick glass out of Norway's feet. Norway just shrugged, hiding his mouth behind a new coffee cup.

"A phone call," he answered.

"He meant the cheering," Iceland said bored.

"That was a vocal consequence of said phone call."

"So ya went to the bathroom to cheer for nothin'?" Norway sipped his coffee wishing Finland was done so he could strangle the Dane.

"No, I vocally expressed my positive -"

"I think we'd really like to know what that phone call was about, Norway," said Finland, cutting off an explanation that would probably only be some empty words.

"Oh, it was nothing," he said, suddenly looking shyly into his cup. "They just found some oil of the Coast."

"You have oil!" Denmark yelled. Norway glared at him.

"How large?"

"Per did not know, but it is supposed to be fairly large."

"So you have money?" Everyone went silent for a moment, staring at the blonde. To think of Norway with money…

"Yes. I will have money."

They smiled that evening, even Sweden managed a lasting smile and he and Denmark didn't even argue. Even when Finland nagged Norway about using his new money to by some food because 'he was more skin and bones than meat' and he 'needed to stop looking like a walking skeleton', or when Norway made Iceland call him Big Brother, the smiles would still be there. They opened their presents and ate candy, Finland kept fussing over Norway's feet and made them all eat twice as much as they should have.

...

He began the oil production in 1971, and by 2000 Norway was the third largest exporter of oil and gas, the largest outside the Middle East. In just 30 years Norway went from being a country of farmers and fishermen to be one of the worlds richest nations*. He suspected it then and later on he knew. The oil was the most useful Christmas gift he had ever received.

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Translations:

Ja (norwegian) - Yes

Norge (danish) - Norway

Author's note:

The Norwegian oil fund was in July 2015 worth 7 trillion NOK (799.8 billion USD), that is more than 1 million NOK per capita. It is said to be the largest stockholder in Europe and holds 1% of the global equity market.

I think his was a very important moment for Norway as it made him what he is today. ¼ of his entire income comes from the petroleum industry.

The 'Per' he is referring to is Per Borten, Norway's Prime Minister from 1965 to 1971.

I hope you enjoyed this one-shot, if you didn't like it please review and if you did like it then please let me know.

*Norway are the fourth richest nation in the world, source: .com(slash)the-23-richest-countries-in-the-world-2015-7?r=US&IR=T


	4. a Mutually Beneficial Arrangement

I am so sorry, this is terribly late. Explanation will be given in the author's note at the end of the chapther. I would also like to warn you that this is a headcannon of mine and you may not agree with it. This is not meant as a pairing. Enjoy.

unofficial top secret nonpolitical mutually beneficial arrangement

August 1998, the mouth of Jakobselv river, Russian side

He could see them. Right there. Just on the other side of the river. Like golden stars. Small dots of warm light. They were mocking him. The lights of Grense Jakobselv. He knew it was just military barracks. He knew that. The last civilians moved south and west in the 70's and early 80's. He knew that too. But those lights… Right now they looked like cosy homes where happy families sat around the tables, eating, hearty fires keeping them warm.

He was not sure exactly why he went to this place. Why he was sitting in a canoe watching the Norwegian side of the border. He took a couple of strokes, trying to keep what little warmth he could. It did not help. He padled some more.

It may have been because of those old memories. It was hard to remember in between so many wars, but it was there. A small hand with a surprising strength, polite words in heavily accented german and broken russian. Friendly blue eyes and a blazing bonfire. Serious conversation and the only neighbor with whom he had not fought.

One who had let him help, and then politely told him the war was over and that he could take his soldiers and leave.

Maybe it was the memory of food and companionable silence. A meetingroom, deserted by all but them. Minutes of looking at his counterpart who was staring at air, oblivious to the world, waiting for someone to come so the meeting could begin. One who had talked to him and promised him friendship, not as nations, but as humans.

The oar felt heavy in his hands so he carefully placed it down beside himself. Come to think of it, his whole body felt heavy. His head was still aching, his nose running and violent, scathing bouts of coughs wracked his body now and then. He did deserve a break, and what better place to take it, no one would disturb him here.

August 1998, unknown cabin, Norway

"Russland! Russland! Wake up! Russia! Mladshiy braht, Россия! РОССИЯ!

Someone was shouting his name. Shouting and shaking him. It was a very familiar voice…

"Wake up, now, or I will sing the idiots anthem." What, no! He opened his eyes, not really seeing anything, but that was not the objective.

"Я не сплю! Я не сплю!" he yelled

"Good," the familiar voice answered, in russian. Heavily accented, but still beautiful. He was not entirely sure whether his language was beautiful no matter what, or if it was that voice that could make anything sound like a song… His sight was coming back, it was pretty dark, but he could make out a person leaning over him. The warm flickering light -fire, he thought, created strange shadows and painted the blonde hair in gold and reds. Pale skin and dark eyes staring into his own.

"I have waited for you to wake up," Norway said. They sat opposite each other, a table between them. Russia sat on a bed, the other on a chair. It was a small cabin. It surprised him a bit. No electricity, no water. It was just as he had lived more than a hundred years earlier. As if nothing had changed, though then he had been in a forced union and one of Europe's poorest countries. Now he was independent and had a strong oil-driven economy. And yet here he was, in this primitive cabin in the middle of nowhere.

Norway suddenly stood up and left the room. He wouldn't leave him here alone, would he? No, he wouldn't. Or maybe he would. It had been a long time since they last met, maybe he had changed his mind? Maybe he didn't want to be his friend anymore, nobody else wanted to… Everyone left him, of course Norway would leave too.

A soft thud brought him back and he saw Norway sitting down.

"I thought you might be hungry," he said with a vague gesture to the bowls he had placed in front of them.

"Thank you," Russia said. He used the spoon to poke at the substance. Some kind of porridge maybe? It did not matter, it was warm and he needed both the warmth and the nutrition. They ate in silence. Now and then Russia would sneak a glance at the other nation, he had to admit that he was curious. The Norwegian never looked up, he ate silently, lifting each spoonful to his mouth slowly and elegantly, careful that he wouldn't spill anything.

Small, delicate, civilized, naive, pokerfaced, careful, peaceful, polite, humane, democratic. All words that described Norway. Why did he not hate Russia? Someone like him was not friends with people like Russia, it simply was not done.

He asked the question. Norway did not even look at him, just ate another spoonful of soup.

"I hate your government," he had answered. "I was scared that you will invade me and make me a part of your union. But we have never fought, not really, and I believe everyone deserves a friend, everyone needs someone sometimes. It is a mutually beneficial arrangement; we both gain a friend, one time won't kill and that is not looking for profit or alliance." After that he had not said anymore, just poured a cup of coffee and turned his head slightly to look into the crackling fire in the fireplace.

It was a strange friendship, if one could even call it that. Thay had met like this three times, this would be the fourth, always alone. They had rules. No one was to know, no politics, they were not allies. It was only for comfort, the possibility that if everything became too much they had someone to go to. It was strange, unnatural and Russia felt that the comforting part was very onesided, but it worked and he would not look the gifthorse in the mouth. And so they ate together in silence and in that moment it was like the world did not exist. No pain, no politics, no economical problems. No past and no future, only two friends enjoying a simple meal in a tiny cabin somewhere in Norway.

That night they cuddled together on the cabin's only bed and for once they slept without any nightmares. It would not, could not, last. It would be years, even decades, to the next time, but it did not matter because in that cabin everything was right, they were fine and they were safe.

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translations:

Russland (norwegian) - Russia

Mladshiy braht (russian) - Little brother

Россия (russian) - Russia

Я не сплю (russian) - I am awake/I am up

I don't know russian so feel free to correct me, that goes for the english too.

History lesson:

In the autumn of 1998 Russia experienced a financial crisis when he tried to change his economical model to resemble the capitalist western world. The crisis was solved by New Year.

On the 14. may 1826 in Saint Petersburg a bordertreaty was signed between Russia and Norway. Both parts were satisfied, even though Russia surprisingly gave up their claim to some of the land west of the Bay of Kola. The border remains Norway's youngest and Russia's oldest unchanged border.

At the end of the second world war the Soviet army marched into Northern Norway to fight the Germans. They remained in Norway until september 1945, when Norway asked them to leave. Norway is the only country that Soviet left alone after sending in their army. During the Cold War Norway would not let America place rockets on Norwegian territory.

Author's note:

So… Explanation. As I wrote, I am very sorry for this late update and even more sorry for saying that the next update probably will be later. I am currently on the second three-months-lap of a six months bicycle tour across the US, from New York City to Los Angeles. Hah, bet you don't see that excuse often… Anyways, I still have school and between cycling and school I will be hard pressed to write anything, and then I have to find a place with Wifi…

Regular updates will resume around May 17. I hope you are patient and that you will stay with me.

I would also like some reviews, if you can spare the twenty seconds it takes to write one of course.


	5. Modern Traditions and Friday's Dilemma

Firday night

It was Friday. A Firday afternoon. The view from his kitchen window was beautiful. The rain had just stopped and the clouds were breaking up, spears of sunshine pierced the clear air and the green hills shone a vibrant green. So beautiful, so peaceful.

Lukad did not notice it. He was actually having a bit of a problem. See, Fridays means tradition. You have to eat the traditional Friday food. Unfortunately there were two different traditions and he really wanted both. Such a dilemma.

The sky outside darkened and glowed a purplish red as the evening clouds bled light. The sun went down. He sighed and looked out at the strangely grey world beneath the light dome that was the sky. It was truly a sight to behold, but unfortunatly his stomach decided to protest rather violently against his indecision. He decided to do the only sensible thing.

"Elle, melle,

deg fortelle,

skipet går

ut i år.

rygg i rand,

to i spann,

du er ute

på ei lita gullpute,

gullputa sprakk,

virre, virre vapp,

du slapp."

He gave the tacos a mourning glance as he freed the delicious food from it's plastic coffin. The oven was warm and he knew when it would be rady, all he had to do was to wait. Adter replacing the tacos in the cabinets, the meat in the freezer, making dip and finding the chips (he nearly ended up having the same problem, but he decided that he could open two bags of chips at the same time.) the food was finally ready. He took it out of the oven and placed it on the counter while he quickly set the table.

Then, finally, he got to stuff his face full of pizza. Not just any pizza, oh no, Grandiosa, the frozen kind. He'd have tacos next week. Grandis was tradition after all.

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translations

Elle, melle, - Elle, melle,

deg fortelle, You tell,

skipet går the ship went

ut i år. out this year.

rygg i rand, back in brim,

to i spann, two in bucket,

du er ute you are out

på ei lita gullpute, on a little golden pillow.

gullputa sprakk, the golden pillow cracked,

virre, virre vapp, virre, virre vapp,

du slapp. you didn't have to.

It is a childrens rhyme, it does not make sense to me either and I grew up with it.

Cultural lesson

Okay, not really, more of a fun fact. A Norwegian newspaper once had a poll on what the national dish of Norway should be, and somehow they chose Grandiosa's frozen pizza. So that is the unofficial but, among Norwegians, widely recognized modern national dish of Norway. If you ever visit you have to make sure you get some, especially on Fridays.

My second point, Friday evening. A Norwegian will most likely eat some foreign food; pizza and taco are the most popular, though sushi would be okay, then he will get chips and sit down in front of the TV, where he will watch the "Golden Line" which a name commonly used about three TV-shows that go on nrk between eight and eleven. It is a very Norwegian thing to do, and many foreigners and immigrants never truly understand the tradition.

Author's note (finally)

New chapter, horribly short, but it is here. I hope you enjoyed it, if you did not please tell me so that I can improve, if you did… I would still like to know… Wheter you review or not, I would like to thank you for reading this, it means so much to me. Also a thousand thanks to the people following and favoriting this story, it makes me so happy every time I get a mail saying someone haf followed or favorited my story.

I will try to update, but as I told you in the last chapter I am on a bike trip and I have limited acess to internet. It is worth it though, I am in Texas right now and the people here are wonderful. anyways, I am writing seceral one-shots and I have a couple of ideas, I will give you a list and if there is any you want to read I will give them a higher priority. I take requests, it saves me so much thinking…

If none of this made sense then I apologize, it's 1.30 am and I should really be asleep, but who can sleep when there is stuff to write and stuff to read?

So that, oh and I found a video, you just search for this in youtube;

How to drink your morning coffee in Norway by Trym Nordgaard

Bye and hope to hear from you,

Shrizyne


	6. It's the Law

It's the law

Norway and Sweden were taking a walk in the forest by their shared border when they happened upon a man peeing on a pole. The two looked at each other.

"Han är på din sida av gränsen, vad bjuda lagen?" Sweden asked. Norway spaced out for a moment, but soon replied.

"Den som krenker grensemerkene på riksgrensen mellom Norge og Sverige skal henges i nærmeste tre til skrekk og advarsel for likesinnede," he quoted thoughtfully. "Men det virker inhumant." Sweden nodded thoughtfully.

"Det är möjligt att hänga honom utan att döda honom," he pointed out. Norway stared blankly at him for a moment before his lips twitched in an almost smile. They waited in silent agreement, apprehending the man before he had finished relieving himself would be cruel. And awkward. And so they waited in cover of the trees, awkwardly watching the man relieve himself. Well, doesn't that make them sound like two old creeps?

The insolent stranger was finally done and had zipped up his pants when a large hand fell heavily on his shoulder. The man started and twisted around to face them, stumbling a couple of steps back when he found Sweden's face uncomfortably close to his own.

"Hvad fanden- Oh. Eh. Hej med jer~! Hvad en overraskelse at møde jer her… Oi Sve! Hvad fanden gør du! Norge få ham til at sætte mig ned! Norgeeeeeeeee!" Both the Scandinavians felt like facepalming for the tall, insolent, loud, obnoxious, blonde was obviously a dane, and not just any dane but Denmark himself. Not that it changed their plans, and with a shared glance and two unnoticable shrugs Sweden dragged the drunk dane towards the closest tree and Norway rummaged through his backpack for the rope he knew was there somewhere.

Denmark's eyes widened as he saw Norway tie the customary knot on the end of the rope and he began struggling futilely to escape his captor.

"Hej Norge," he began with a nervous laugh, "Du laver sjov… ikke sandt? Du du vil ikke gøre dette, ikke egentlig… Norge? Norge! NORGE!" His babling became more and more panicked as they fastened the rope and slung the other end over a fir's branch, but it was cut off rather abruptly when Sweden put his weight on the rope and began hoisting him into the air like a flag on a flag pole. When he finally finished he tied off the rope and turned to Norway.

"Är det bra såhär?" he asked, glaring at the smaller nation. Norway glanced up at the flailing dane.

"Ja. Dette er… underlig tilfredsstillende. Takk for hjelpen."

"Det var lika mycket för min skull." Norway nodded in acceptance.

"Kaffe hos meg?" he invited.

"Ja tack," Sweden answered, and then they strolled leisurely back the way they had come, as if they had not just hung the Kingdom of Denmark in a tall fir tree on the border between their countries.

Next World Meeting

"First case today!" Germany shouted, "DENMARK has filed a COMPLAINT on NORWAY and SWEDEN for aggravated ASSAULT, TORTURE and attempted MURDER! Will SCANDINAVIA EXPLAIN themselves so we can STOP WASTING TIME on this subject!"

Norway immediately stood up. His emotionless mask stiff and unmoving as he spoke in an eerily carrying tone.

"Innocent of all charges. We only hung him." And that was the cue for Germany's facepalm.

"People often die when you hang them, that is why it is considered a form of 'capital punishment'." Norway's icy stare was turned a bit over Germany's left shoulder.

"I am aware," he said politely, "which is why I fastened the rope under his arms." The German sighed.

"You hung him from a tree, with the rope fastened under his arms, and left him there. That is torture at the very least, he could have died."

"I am not a barbarian, I do not torture people and I do not kill them. It is forbidden by the law."

"Yet you did it."

"I beg to differ. My actions were in compliance with the law. It is a warning, not torture and absolutely not something as barbaric as murder. I further believe this is an internal matter, I am certain that I, Sweden and Denmark will discuss this matter and come to an agreement." Germany nodded slowly and closed the subject before the Scandinavian insanity spread to the rest of the world. Though looking out over the rest of the nations it was probably too late anyways. Yet another pointless meeting.

When most of the other nations where occupied with the World Brawl Norway turned slightly towards Sweden.

"We should have hung him uppside down." Sweden just hummed in agreement.

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Translations:

Han är på din sida av gränsen, vad bjuda lagen? (swedish) - He is on your side of the border, what does the law say?

Den som krenker grensemerkene på riksgrensen mellom Norge og Sverige skal henges i nærmeste tre til skrekk og advarsel for likesinnede. (norwegian) - One who offends/violate the border marker on the border between Norway and Sweden shall be hung in the nearest tree as a terror and warning to others of like mind.

Men det virker inhumant. (norwegian) - But it seems inhumane.

Det är möjligt att hänga honom utan att döda honom. (swedish) - It is possible to hang him without killing him.

Hvad fanden- Oh. Eh. Hej med jer~! Hvad en overraskelse at møde jer her… Oi Sve! Hvad fanden gør du! Norge få ham til at sætte mig ned! Norgeeeeeeeee! (danish) - What the fuck- Oh. Eh. Hello you two~! What a surprise meeting you here… Oi Swe! What the fuck are you doing! Norway make him set me down! Norwaaaaaaaay!

Hej Norge. (danish) - Hi Norway.

Du laver sjov… ikke sandt? Du du vil ikke gøre dette, ikke egentlig… Norge? Norge! NORGE! (danish) - You're kidding… right? You won't do this, not really… Norway? Norway! NORWAY!

Är det bra såhär? (swedish) - Is it good like this?

Ja. Dette er… underlig tilfredsstillende. Takk for hjelpen. (norwegian) - Yes. This is… strangely satisfying. Thanks for the help.

Det var lika mycket för min skull. (swedish) - It was just as much for my sake.

Kaffe hos meg? (norwegian) - Coffee at my place?

Ja tack. (swedish) - Yes, thank you.

Right. Sorry for not writing the conversation in english, but I kind of liked the way this looked? I don't know, I am sorry if it was an inconvenience. I am not fluent in either swedish or danish, but I am pretty confident that I did not do too bad. If there are any native speakers who would correct me or tell me if I was right that would be appreciated.

Histroy/Norwegian Law lesson:

'One who offends/violate the border marker on the border between Norway and Sweden shall be hung in the nearest tree as a terror and warning to others of like mind.'

This was an actual valid law that was in effect until 2002, though capital punishment was abolished in 1905. This was basically me wondering how one would carry out this law without breaking another.

Author's note:

So, like I just wrote, this is just me thinking and somehow I could not get this law out of my head. And let's face it, Denmark would do something this stupid when drunk.

Apologies for the short chapter.

Now to the part you're probably not interested in;

I am still biking. We are in New Mexico, heading for Arizona and then into Mexico and continuing into California. We are on the last part with only five weeks and ca. 1000 km away from the goal.

On another note, I just found that my seven-year-old brother rather would read political plays by 19th century writer Henrik Ibsen in the original two hundred years old Danish-Norwegian mix, instead of reading children's authors like Astrid Lindgren or C.S. Lewis or something meant for his age and written in a language that actually resembles the one we speak today. The worst part is that he actually understand what he is reading. I read those books in school! Act your age boy!

I hope you are doing well, I probably won't tomorrow. It's just a feeling, but the clock is 2.30 am and I am supposed to be up by 6 am… Anyways, remember to sleep, apparently it is important…

So… Good night, I guess?

Shrizyne

(Please review and excuse my rambling. I blame … I don't know who to blame … I'll just shut up. Bye.)


	7. Independence Day Again

8th of May 1945, Independence Day

The celebrations had started on the seventh, as soon as the news of Hitler's suicide spread. On the eight the celebrations continued as Berlin capitulatedto the Allies. When the occupation of Norway officially ended at midnight to the ninth day of may, the Norwegian people entered their third day of celebrations.

Norway did of course celebrate along with his people, drinking and singing and dancing and waving his flag. He did that, and he was social. At times. But mostly he walked and watched. He was glad that it was over. He was happy to have his independence back. He was proud of his people. He was tired after working far too hard for far too long. He was angry that he had been too naive to properly defend himself. He was sad that so much and so many were lost. He had lost too much to truly celebrate these days. Maybe in the future, when the wounds had closed. When a generation was born that had not lived under the shadow of war. When moss grew on the grave markers of fallen heroes…

He wanted his people to forget and to move on. He knew they could not do it, and he wanted his heroes to be remembered, but hate and resent would do no good in the long run and therefore it was better to forget. Not everything, no, just enough that they would be sincere when they forgave.

He walked up the Karl Johan, towards the Royal Palace. The Royal family had yet to return, though the Crown Prince Olav was already planning his journey. How Norway looked forward to seeing the young man again. He glanced absentmindedly at the buildings, but had to look back. He smiled a bit as he read the sign again. Closed because of Joy, the sign read. It was hung in the door of a book store. He walked on, watching the greening trees and breathing the fresh spring air. The sweet scence of flowers and candy and the aroma of dinners drifting out from second-story flats mingled with the smoke from the burning blending curtains

He knew it was wrong of him, but he tried to forget the young woman in the alley. He had not helped her. He had tried, but could not find in himself to do anything. He was disgusted with himself, knowing what would happen to those young women who fell in love with the wrong handsome man, and to the innocent children whose only fault was their fathers nationality. Yet he let it happen.

No victory is truly great, and everyone lose in every war. There is never any true victor, because the moment a war break out; all sides have lost. Norway sighed as he finished his walk and closed the door behind him. He had been given a little room connected to the Royal Flat in the Palace, nothing permanent, just until he could find another place. His had been burned.

Rebuilding would take a long time. He sifted through the stacks of papers at his desk. Everything was in minus. He lacked even the most fundamental resources and if the situation did not change he would have to ration some goods well into the next millenia. He could export fish and ammunition, maybe increase tourism, but no one in Europe had money or want to travel or really for anything but rebuilding their own countries. Maybe USA… though his pride would certainly take a hit if he had to accept help from such a young nation, just because he had not been able to defend himself. The North American probably would not offer anyways. Maybe he could build hydro powerplants? Yet again he lacked the financial resources.

Well then, nothing much he could do before his King and the Government came back home, so he better celebrate a bit more. And have a chat with Russia, the young one still had soldiers on his side of the border. Ah. Damn it. Hopefully he would not be caught in the middle of some not-quite-peaceful testosterone-filled I-have-more-guns-than-you competition between the two young Powers. Surely they were both smart enough to avoid that kind of tension after such a catastofic World War. Once again assured that the world would follow common sense and that everything would be fine, Norway sat down with a good book, celebrating his independence by shutting out the world.

-:- -:- -:- -:- -:- -:- -:-

Congratulations!

For those who did not know, in Norway the Eight of May is celebrated as our Independence Day, it is not a large celebration, but the Norwegian flag will decorate many houses today.

History lesson:

2\. World War in Norway, extremely short edition.

9th of april 1940, Germany attacks Norway, the Royal family and the Government eventually escape to England with all the gold in the Norwegian Bank.

Two months of resistance before official kapitulation.

Quisling-regime.

Commando-Saboteurs, soldiers in exile and civil disobedience.

1943, arrest of all professors at the Univerity of Oslo and many other teachers throughout the country.

Germans burns the northern ⅓ to stop the Soviets.

8th of May 1945, Berlin capitulates.

9th of May 1945, German forces in Norway surrender.

Did you know that during the entire war Hitler had more than 30 000 soldiers stationed in Norway, a tiny country with 3 million citizens?

Author's note:

I am back home in Norway. You may expect faster updates, and I will try, but I have four english essays, four english tests and six lifescience tests next week. It is crazy and it is entirely my fault for starting on my schoolwork one and a half month before the end of the year. I am an idiot, please wish me luck.

Here is the list I promised with some of my ideas, if you have any, please tell me.

-17th of May. Several scenes depicting the history of Norway's Constitution Day.

-The Swedish-Norwegian was of 1814, more specifically, the Treaty of Moss, in which Norway surrenders to Sweden after losing the war. He takes the Swedish king as his, but he retains control over internal matters. In the Treaty of Moss they also stress that the Union of Sweden and Norway was not a fulfilling of the Treaty of Kiel.

-Norway making fun of the fact that of all European nation, Sweden has the most McDonalds restaurants per capita.

-England and Romania slipping veritaserum into his coffee at a world meeting, preferably one where he is required to make some sort of speech.

-A head-ache inducing one-shot about the Norwegian Language Debate. It is the longest running debate in Norwegian history, it started in 1814 and continue to this day.

What do you think? Please follow, favourite, review, comment, pm me or just go on reading the next story you find interesting.

Happy Independence Day,

Shrizyne


	8. a History of the Celebration of Freedom

**_Warning: excessive use of patriotic songs and poems_**

Freedom and Unity

1778

Norway was walking through the streets of Copenhagen when he heard singing from a pub. Now, if he wanted to hear drunken singing he would just go home to Denmark, but there was something different about this… He felt drawn to the sound like a moth to a flame, hopefully he would not burn when he found the source.

He went to stand close to the door, and felt his eyes slide shut when he heard the words. The text was in danish, but though a bit slurred it was sung in a noticeable norwegian accent.

"...faae Blod paa Tand, ...taste blood on our teeth,

Vi sødt om Frihed drømme; We sweetly of liberty dream;

Dog vaagne vi vel op engang Though we will someday wake up

Og bryde Lænker, Baand og Tvang; And break chains, ties and force;

For Norge, Kjæmpers Fødeland, For Norway, birthplace of warriors,

Vi denne Skaal udtømme! We this toast will empty!

His eyes widened and he backed away from the place before turning and speed-walking away. That was dangerously close to treason. He should not - no! He did absolutely not like the song.

Later that evening he went back to the same pub, they were still singing the same song. This time he did not leave until it ended.

17 of May, 1814

The room was far too stuffy with formal men clad in their best sunday clothes. It was a glorious day and he nearly sighed in longing, he really wished he could be out there, feeling the warmth of the sun on his skin and the gentle caress of the breeze in his hair. Someone spoke and he turned from the window to pay attention to the meeting. This was important.

He watched as his people, his and only his, wrote the document. A strange feeling came over him. One that he had almost forgotten, he had kept a shadow of it because he was too stubborn to let it go entirely, but this time it was real. It was pride. Pride and satisfaction. He was free. Finally free. Finally his own and no one else's.

Oh, he would have to fight for this privilege, he knew that. He was also starving. His people were dying of starvation and disease. He did not have weapons to arm his soldiers and he did not have any allies. He was preparing to fight a war he had no chance of winning. A sudden urge to grin overtook him, but he quickly fought it down. He hurt so much, and he looked forward to inflicting the same kind of pain onto the swede.

But in that moment, on that glorious day, he was shaking hands with his people listening to their excited chatter and ignoring his jutting ribs, sickly pallor and the weakness in his arms and legs. It was a day to celebrate.

1820

Sønner af Norges det ældgamle Rige, Sons of Norway kingdom old as fire,

Sjunger til Harpens den festlige Klang! Sings to the celebratory sound of harps!

Mandigt og høitidfuldt Tonen lad stige, Manly and solemnly the melody rise,

Fædrenelandet innvies vor Sang. Our song is to the fatherland dedicated.

Fædreneminder herligt oprinder, Ancestor's memories great are remembered,

Hvergang vi nævne vor Fædrenestavn. Each time we mention our ancestral home.

Svulmende Hjerter og glødende Kinder, Proud hearts and glowing cheeks,

Hylde det elskte, det hellige Navn. A tribute to the beloved, the sacred name.

Norway almost laugh. He does not, he would not know how, but he feels like laughing. It is written in Danish, sort of, but it is still so Norwegian he can feel it in his bones. The words bleeds patriotism, the paper itself seems to ooze nationalism. This is apparently his first national anthem, not officially, but it is more official than that drinking song…

1828

"What?" Norway asked, he had gone strangely still and his voice were a bit choked. Sweden sighed.

"You can't celebrate 17th of May." The smaller blonde did not meet his eyes, instead choosing to stare at the wall over his left shoulder.

"...Why?" _What have I done wrong?_ That was the question he really asked, and the question Sweden heard.

"Karl Johan says it's a provocation towards me and him." This time Norway did look up. His eyes met Sweden's and the taller nation found himself slightly intimidated by the fire in his eyes.

Norway opened his mouth as if to speak, but changed his mind and closed it again. With a last glance at Sweden he turned and walked away with determined steps, back straight and head held high. He was the image of stubborn pride and haughty confidence, but that was not the reason why Sweden stood as if rooted to the ground beneath his feet. No, he had been frozen by the one last glance Norway had sent him. _Disappointment._ His neighbor was not raging, he was not crying. He was disappointed. Disappointed in Sweden. And somehow it made him feel like a little child who had been chastised for doing something he knew he shouldn't have done.

17 of May, 1828

Norway had been prepared to spend the day in the lonely darkness of his locked house, but the cruel world had decided that this was the day when he would find his lovely house completely empty of coffee. When he set out on his quest to gather the elixir of life he was approached by a mysterious stranger - oh, never mind, it was just his overactive imagination trying to distract him from… Anyways! A group of little children came running towards him and flocked around him filling the air with their excited chatter and innocent laughter. He looked at his future and felt calmer.

"Hey Uncle! Uncle! Uncle! Uncle!" they yelled dancing around him as if he was a christmas tree.

"What is it?" he asked in an exasperated tone, though he knelt down to tickle the neighbors son to show that he really didn't mind them.

"Uncle, Mamma told me to tell you that a ship is coming in today and she wants you to be there and we are getting everyone and we need to dress in our best Sunday clothes and she told us to bring flags because we are going to wave them and - HEY LARSEN!" and then the children were off to bother someone else.

Which meant he needed to get his best clothes and a flag before embarking on the walk down to the docks. Through the densely populated centre of Kristiania. Without coffee. The world was conspiring against him. Well, he better get on with it, fru Cecilia was not a woman you wanted to defy.

The crowd around him were all dressed up and clutching flags in their hands. His flag. His flag without the Herring Salad*. Excited chatter filled the air and the noise of the gathering made the air itself heavy, ad if he had to filter the words from the air to breath properly. He was annoyed, and warm and tired and he had still not gotten his coffee. Sighing he went to find somewhere to sit.

He looked up when to crowds cheers got to loud to ignore. A ship was on its way in and he was about to look away when he saw it. It was right there, painted in gold on both sides of the bow. 'Grunnloven' was the name of the ship and a smile tugged at his lips before it quickly disappeared. And his people, bless them, were cheering and yelling hurrahs. Norway stood up and waved his flag once, tentatively. Then he jumped down into the mass of people and joined them as they made a joined effort;

"Hurrah!

Hurrah!

Hurrah!

Hurrah for the Constitution!" For it was indeed 'the Constitution' that had returned to her homeport that 17th of May.

Sweden later lectured him and gave him house-arrest in Sweden's own mansion outside of Stockholm. In Norway an anti-demonstration law was soon passed. But the expression on Sweden's face when he had told him that it was in no way planned, and that he in reality had just welcomed home a ship, had been worth it all.

He still thought so when Sweden let him out two years later.

17 of May, 1841

The little boys marched in neat lines, and one of their fathers walked first with the flag. Their high voices sounded clear above the men's as they joined in the song.

"Vi ere en Nation vi med, We are a nation we too,

vi Smaa, en Alen lange: we small, an armlength long:

et Fædreland vi frydes ved; a fatherland we take joy in;

og Vi Vi ere mange. and we are many.

Vort Hjerte veed, vort Øje seer, Our hearts know, our eyes can see,

hvor godt og vakkert Norge er, how good and beautiful Norway is,

vor Tunge kan en Sang blandt fleer our tongue knows a song among many

af Norges Æressange. of song to Norway's honour."

1863

The food stood forgotten on the table, the door was left open. A chest was emptied and the owner was out. You wouldn't have to go far to find him, but it was a dangerous climb up onto the cliff where he sat. He did not do anything special, he just sat there. Staring, staring at the ocean. The waves crashing against the sheer cliffs hundreds of meters below him. He was clad in strange clothes. Old-fashioned, ancient even. A blue tunic over a pair of brown trousers, he had bare feet but a pair of leather boots were neatly placed an arm-length behind him. He was sitting with his legs criss-crossed at the very edge, and a sword rested in his lap. His eyes were glazed and he was lost in memories of times long passed.

Back in his house, on the table beside the cooling soup was a piece of paper with fine hand-writing.

'Millom Bakkar og Berg ut med Havet 'Between slopes and berg out by the ocean

heve Nordmannen fenget sin Heim, has the Norwegian secured his home,

der han sjølv hever Tufterna gravet there he dug the tufts himself

og sett sjølv sine Hus uppaa deim.' and built by himself his house on top of them.'

17 of May, 1864

Norway stood under the spring-green trees of Eidsvoll. It was the same day and the same place. Even the celebratory crowd seemed the same. 50 years. A long time for a human, nothing to him. It was a bitter-sweet celebration. He did not have the independent freedom he had wanted, it was better, but not yet enough. Still, it felt good to celebrate the day knowing that it probably would not lead to war.

A solemn hush fell over the crowd, and all took of their hats in an almost synchronized movement. He nearly blushed as they sung the first stanza, he always did.

"Ja, vi elsker dette landet Yes, we love this country

Som det stiger frem, as it rises forth,

furet , værbitt over vannet, rugged, weathered above the water,

Med de tusen hjem. With the thousand homes.

Elsker, elsker det og tenker Love, love it and think

På var far og mor, of our father and mother

Og den saganatt som senker and the night of legend that lowers

Drømme på vår jord. Dreams upon our earth."

It went on and on, all the eight verses. The crowd joined in and warmth blossomed in Norway's heart.

1878

It was the first thing he saw when he opened the paper. The headline:

"Gud signe Noregs land, God bless Norway's land."

He had to read it. Of course he did.

"Gud signe Noregs Land, God bless Norway's land,

kvar Heim, kvar Dal og Strand, each home, each valley and beach,

kvar Lund og Lid. each grove and slope.

Han lat' det aldri døy, He never let it die,

han verje Bygd og Øy, He guard village and island,

han verje Mann og Møy, He guard man and maiden,

til evig Tid. forever."

1924

"Det blånar av fjord; det kvitnar av foss; The blue of the fjord; the white waterfall;

Det glødar av sol i vårt flagg. The glowing sun in our flag.

Og det tonar så vent frå den blakrande And it tones so gently from the fluttering

kross cross

Over folket som stri'r i dag. Over the people who work hard today.

Kvart lukkeleg smil, kvar tåre som fell Each happy smile, each tear that fell

Det speglar mot himmelen av. It mirrors in the sky.

Det helsar vell møtt; det kviskrar farvel; It greets well met; it whispers fare well;

Det signar til sist vår grav. It blesses in the end our grave."

Norway looked at the lyrics again and picked up his violin.

1941

He was in Kongsberg at the time, that summer day, when someone had shoved a piece of paper into his pocket. He knew better than to take it out, and he continued on his merry way without looking around. Not until he sat down in the little room he had borrowed at an old widow's house did he take out the slip of paper.

It was white, a little flag was drawn in one corner. An illegal pamphlet. Curious finger smoothened the paper against the floor. 'Red, white and blue' the caption read.

"Hvorhen du går i li og fjell, Wherever you go in slope and mountain,

en vinterdag, en sommerkveld a winterday, a summernight

med fjord og fossevell, with fjord and waterfall,

fra eng og mo med furutrær from meadow and hill with pine trees

fra havets bryn med fiskevær from ocean's edge with fishing villages

og til de hvite skjær, and to the white reefs,

møter du landet i trefarvet drakt, meet you the land clad in tricolored robes,

svøpt i et gjenskinn av flaggets farveprakt. wrapped in the glare of the colors of the flag.

Se, en hvitstammet bjerk oppi heien, Look, a white-trunked birch in the moor,

rammer stripen med blåklokker inn frame the strip of bluebells in

mot den rødmalte stuen ved veien, against the red-painted cabin by the road,

det er flagget som vaier i vind. that's the flag waving in the wind.

Ja, så hvit som det hvite er sneen, Yes, the white is white as the snow,

og det røde har kveldssolen fått, and the red was given to the evening sun,

og det blå ga sin farve til breen, and the blue gave it's colour to the glacier,

det er Norge i rødt, hvitt og blått. That is Norway in red, white and blue."

 _It is decided then_ , he thought, _I won't ever give up_.

17 of May, 2015

It was a windy day. The sun was shining, children were laughing and people milled around with ice cream and flags in their hands. Smiles adorned all faces and congratulations were given and received. The crowd stilled a bit and disappeared from the road when the parade came.

"Her kommer vi unge i flokk, flokk, flokk! Here come we young in a herd, herd, herd!

Av mot og av sanger har vi nok, nok, nok! Of courage and of songs we've got enough

Vi våren vil prise og gamle Norge vise, Spring we'll praise and let old Norway see,

Her kommer vi unge i flokk, flokk, flokk!" Here come we young in a herd, herd, herd!

 _All is good that ends well_ , Norway thought as he watched some kindergarteners march past him. They held onto ropes to keep the lines a tiny flag clutched in the other, and each row of tiny little children was followed by a parent on each side. _But this is not the end. Methinks that 'All is well when all is good' holds just as much truth._

He spent the rest of the day with his family, his brother-by-blood, his brothers-in-battle and … Finland would probably be his brother-in-law, minus the law-part as they were not married. They celebrated Norway's birthday until nine o'clock, when the flag was lowered and rolled. Then they went inside to eat a simple dinner and go to bed.

The next day they would wake to find coffee and a simple but delicious breakfast. It was Norway's way of thanking them for being his family.

17 of May, 2016

He woke at six o'clock. A fast shower later and he stood bare-feet in his kitchen, waiting for the coffee to be ready. In forty about minutes or so he would raise the flag. Then he would go for a walk, watch the city wake up and the Children's Parade when it started. Later the other Nordics would come, and they would celebrate his birthday together. Just like they did last year. And the year before that. And the one before that one. And the one before that. They had celebrated the 17th of May together since the midlle of the 70's, not always at the same location, but always in the same manner. Traditions, however new, comforted him. He did not want excitement, at least not all the time, sometimes he'd rather have the safety of familiarity.

But all that came later. Right now he would enjoy his coffee in the peace and quiet of his own home.

-:- -:- -:- -:- -:- -:- -:-

Author's Note

I finished two of my subjects this week, so I only have ⅔ of the schoolyear left. I'm optimistic. This also means that I have more time for writing, so lucky you (hopefully, no promises though).

Translations:

All are translated in the chapter.

I have translated everything myself, if you spot any errors, please inform me.

History lesson:

If you missed it, the 17th of May is Norway's Constitution Day.

There are several historical years here, but I think those are explained in the chapter… Oh, yes:

*Herring Salad- derogatory nickname for the Swedish-Norwegian Union flag. The name was used on both sides of the border. It was named for the popular dish 'Sildesalaten'. This dish was as colourful as the flag and was popular in both countries, it is also named the same in both languages.

And that's it.

Please review, follow and favourite.

Gratulerer med Dagen,

Shrizyne


	9. Brothers by Blood and Silence

'Brothers in Blood and Silence' or 'The Extreme Obsessive Silence of the West-Norse Nations'

Germany had for some reason or another stepped out of the meeting room for a couple of meetings. The rest of the nations were acting like the adults they were and had continued the serious discussion of how they best could solve the world's most pressing problems.

Yes, I am joking.

As you might have already guessed, the distinguished nations of the world had had a discussion and failed to settle the matter, thus they resorted to primordial forms of discussion, mainly various styles of destructive violence.

There were of course those who did not participate in this anarchic riot. Those few calm nations stood on the outskirts of the fight, like stones in a raging river, who stands fast when the raging water throws itself up and crashes against them.

On the sidelines stood mostly those who did not wish to fight, those who were too scared and those who were not noticed. However, in the one corner sat three nations who appeared to not care at all. They just sat there, one bored, one indifferent and and one glaring, and watched the rest of the world make fools out of themselves.

To help you form a mental image of the situation I will describe the scene. They sat in a corner, behind a couple of tables that Sweden and Norway hastily had propped up against the walls as cover. Sweden sat in the corner, his back slumped and his hands locked around his knees. He had stuck a pair of earbuds in his ears and was probably listening to music. Iceland sat on Sweden's right hand side. He had crossed his legs and were leaning his elbows on his knees. One hand held a cup of coffee, the other supported his head as he glared at the noisy nations through the barricade. Norway sat on Sweden's other side, a mirror image of Iceland, except for the scowl.

The brothers caught a glimpse of Finland through the crowd just as he broke a vodka bottle over Romania's head, then France and England rolled past and they lost sight of him again. Iceland looked at Norway, his right eyebrow slightly raised.

 _What was that?_ Norway shrugged and rolled his eyes slightly.

 _I don't know. Probably Romania being an idiot._ Iceland nodded slowly, then met his brother's eyes.

 _How are you?_ A little smile formed on Norway's face, Iceland answered with a nod and a tiny smile. They turned their attention back to the world brawl in time to watch Denmark hit Germany in the stomach. When did he return? Oh well, the damage was already done, and the German effortlessly threw the idiot over his head, and sent him crashing into the Neutral Nordic Corner where he slumped against the tables. Sweden glanced up, then went back to whatever he was doing on his phone, satisfied that the barricades held and oblivious to the West-Norse brothers' gestures.

Both of the brothers smiled at the Danish curses, and the smiles became grins and suppressed laughter when Norway tapped two fingers to his temple and rolled his eyes.

They sat together, immobile, as the world raged before them. Whoever needed to pay cinema and theatre tickets when they could watch the world for free? Of course, if someone paid they would gladly go. Maybe with the exception of certain nations whose aggravating incapability of sitting still for more than ten seconds often disturbed others in the audience and caused them to be removed from the audience. It had happened to both of them more times than they would like to remember.

It was like watching an action movie, if all the action had been confined to one room.

 _But even this,_ Iceland mimed, _has more of a plot-line than some of America's action-movies._ Norway nodded in agreement and offered his thermos. They refilled their cups and continued watching as the meeting slowly came to an end, wordlessly commenting the fight.

 **After the meeting**

"Did they talk?" Finland asked. Sweden stared at the road, gripping the steering wheel tightly.

"No."

"I really wish they would sort out their feelings and become friends again, they used to be so close. Do you remember that Sweden? When little Iceland wouldn't go anywhere without Norway? They even had to share a room."

"Hm-m."

"Why won't they speak to each other? Nothing good ever comes from this."

"M-hm."

"Sweden, should we try force them to become friends again?"

"Dunno."

"They can't even be in the same room without teasing each other, they just argue all the time…" Finland sighed and looked out the car window, wondering whether it would do more good or harm to lock them up in a room for a week or so.

Sweden dropped Finland off at his Helsinki apartment and took the ferry over to Sweden.

Denmark spent a week at his own home waiting for his broken bones to heal.

Iceland and Norway ended up spending the weekend together at Iceland's house in Reykjavik. They never said a word to each other.

-:- -:- -:- -:- -:- -:- -:-

I updated. I guess you noticed, few people ever skip the whole story to read the author's not at the end.

I wanted to write fanfiction about Iceland and Norway's brotherly relationship. I did not believe it would be that hard, I could just base it of my own relationship with my siblings. Only, we don't talk. So I decided that they hadn't spoken about what happened in 1814, and that is the big thing between them. Neither of them wants to bring it up, nor do they talk about anything that could possibly lead to it, which means that most historical topics are banned. They can not discuss culture either, as they are both closely related to Denmark and they were shaped by the Kalmar Union.

No past, no culture and politics are work. What remains would be literature (that does not relate to the banned topics) and movies (see earlier parenthesis). Whenever they get close to these subjects they will retreat behind a wall of teasing and arguing, however, they get along with each other perfectly as long as they are not trying to carry a conversation. Not that they need it, they are comfortable in the silence and know each other well enough that they don't need words to communicate. Few anthropomorphic nations know each other better and get along more than Iceland and Norway, they have more than a thousand years of history together, and they have never been at war, which is quite a feat when you think about it.

Cultural lesson:

Norway is quiet. You do not yell, laugh loudly or cry out in public. It is also bad manners to play loud music in a public place or honk your horn when driving.

No translations today.

News about my schoolwork… I got 98/100 at an English essay. I should be finished with American History by Tuesday and Physical Science sometime next week. That is all good now, probably, and I will try to update someday next week.

Please review, follow and favourite

Have a good night, morning, day or evening (choose one)

Shrizyne


	10. Have you seen the movie Frozen

Have you seen the movie Frozen? (pub)

"Norway!" America yelled over the meeting room, attracting the attention of several nations. "Do you wanna build a snowman!" He had not needed to yell, for the meeting was miraculously silent. Norway looked out of the window.

"...There is no snow." America just stared at him in shock and dumped down in his chair when Germany told him to.

The second time America approached him they were having a pasta-break due to North Italy's incredible powers of persuasion.

"Hey dude! Is Arendelle in Norway?"

"...Did you mean Arendal?"

"Nah, I said Arendelle, tiny town with docks and a fountain and ships and in this fjord."

"Arendal is a coastal town in my country, yes."

"No! Arendelle, you know, from the -" His explanation was interrupted by Denmark who called from the other side of the room. Loudly.

"Hey Norge! Your pasta is getting cold!" Norway glared at the Nordic's shared table, though none of the occupants seemed to be affected by it. He huffed.

"I better leave, we wouldn't want to incur onto us the wrath of Italy. Especially not over spoiled pasta." America stared after the retreating Scandinavian's back, but was soon dragged away by his own friends.

"Have you seen Frozen?" America yelled as he dumped into the chair beside Norway's, pushing Iceland away as he did. Norway turned slowly to look at him with dead eyes.

"Hæ?" he eloquently asked. The other grinned his all-American grin.

"Frozen! Have you seen it?" Norway just stared at him as if he was an idiot. "Dude, you haven't… Oh I got it! You've just forgotten! There is this song, it's the best song ever, and I'll sing it and you'll remember everything." Then he proceeded to sing, or at least bellow, the song Let It Go.

"Let it go, let it go

Can't hold it back anym-"

"SHUT UP!" both England and Norway yelled at the same time, together with several other nations who all feared for their eardrums. It was however not this that made America stop, but Norway's following grumble.

"Frozen Hearts is better anyways."

"I KNEW IT! YOU WATCH DISNEY!" Norway's blank glare still had no effect on him.

"It is quite popular in my land," he defended. Iceland snorted and coughed a bit as he almost swallowed a whole piece of licorice.

"That's not why you watched it."

"It is."

"Nine times?" Iceland asked, elegantly raising an eyebrow.

"Dude that's a lot!" America butted in.

"I have not seen it nine times," Norway said over America's head.

"You made me watch it with you," Iceland retaliated, then, before his brother could answer, he turned to America. "He cries at the end."

"Seriously?"

"Every time," Finland cheerfully added, "It's adorable! Right Sweden?"

"Mhm."

"Aw man! I missed it?" Denmark asked.

"No worries," Finland consoled him happily, "I've got it on record! It's so cute, they're behaving like little brothers!"

"Send me a copy later?" Finland nodded and added it to one of his many lists. Iceland stared thoughtfully at Denmark and Finland.

"Maybe we should sell it?" he wondered aloud. Denmark lighted up like a Christmas tree while Norway froze.

"Awesome idea Ice! I'll be the salesman and Finland can get Estonia to make copies!"

"Only if I get a vote in the Nordic Council," Estonia piped up from his chair beside Finland.

"Then Sweden will make them and we can sell them for even more!" Finally Norway seemed to regain movement as he stood up.

"I hate you," he said darkly and marched away towards the door. Denmark immediately got up and followed him.

"You don't mean that, we're best friends! Norge! Hey, I've got an idea, let's watch Frozen after the meeting! Norge! Come on man, we can watch the Norwegian dub! And eat Freia chocolate! Please!" Norway disappeared out the door and Denmark did not follow him. After a few seconds he came back and stood in the doorway.

"Fine," he said reluctantly. "but only if Lillebror watches it with us. And there better be a lot of chocolate. And coffee." Then he left again, this time for good.

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Translations:

Lillebror (norwegian) - Little brother

Norge (danish) - Norway

Author's Note:

When I visited the US, after finding that I am Norwegian many asked me the question "Have you seen the movie Frozen?" I hope this does not offend anyone, but for some reason Americans when hearing the word 'Norway' seems to immediately connect it with 'Frozen' the film.

And another disclaimer: the Hetalia disclaimer in the summary shows at the top of every chapter, and I claim no ownership, neither do I own the film 'Frozen', nor any of the songs in the film.


	11. EFTA and EU

the difference between EFTA and the EU

 _European Union Meeting_

It was not a surprise, a disappointment yes, but not a surprise. The EU meeting had descended into chaos. As expected.

England and France had started an argument for some reason, no doubt an insult, and were strangling each other.

Denmark and Sweden were fighting again.

Finland had hit Poland when the former had tried to tie him up so that he could make him 'dress like a wife', Lithuania was trying to drag him away before his threats were taken seriously and Estonia stood on the sidelines with Latvia recording the events.

Greece was sleeping in a corner.

Cyprus was too busy drawing on him to join a fight.

Prussia had crashed the meeting at some point and was bugging Austria, unfortunately Hungary was busy beating Romania and didn't notice her ex-husband's plight.

The Czech Republic and Ireland had somehow gotten booze for a drinking game in which Slovakia, Slovenia and Croatia had joined.

Luxembourg and Belgium had dragged their chairs and a table up to a window and were eating waffles with jam. Netherlands were hanging out of said window, smoking a questionable substance.

A stream of curses were flowing from where Spain sat hugging Romano, Northern Italy was running around the room with Portugal and Malta chasing him and Germany was staring at the mayhem. Then he sighed and walked over to join the drinking game.

 _In the room across the hallway, the European Free Trade Association Meeting_

"They are being loud, Brother," Liechtenstein commented softly. Switzerland half-hummed in agreement and glared at the two other occupants of the room. Iceland and Norway did not really care.

"They're annoying," Iceland huffed. His brother nodded in agreement and looked at the clock.

"I do not believe they will need us for anything today." he said, addressing Switzerland. "Shall we discuss matters over dinner?"

"That sounds nice, we'll go, right Brother?"

"Fine," Switzerland allowed, "The idiots won't get anything done this time either. Why do they even bother?"

"We will give them a list later then, with suggestions to what should be done."

"Hmph."

"I am paying for the meal," Norway informed them as they walked out of the building and onto the bustling street. The others did not bother to answer. That is, Liechtenstein thanked him while the others remained silence. Just like they did every time. They found a quaint little restaurant in one of the less trafficked alleys, sat down at a table in a corner and ordered their food.

As soon as the food was served and the waiter had left they began their meeting.

"How are we doing?" Switzerland asked. He sat in the corner and fingered a hidden gun as he scanned the surroundings for signs of danger. Norway pulled a blue folder out of his backpack.

"I would say we are doing quite well," he answered, looking over the statistics to make sure that nothing was forgotten. "We are all in the top 16 countries on the Human Development Index. Iceland, you are number 16 and you did not increase your points last year, unless you get a higher score this year South Korea will pass you. In the World Happiness Report and the Social Progress Index we are among the top ten, though Liechtenstein is not featured in either of them.

Switzerland, Liechtenstein your infant mortality rates are still above EU average.

Our largest trading partner is the EU. Outside of the EU we trade the most with our FTA partners, USA and China. Our main exports are mineral products, chemicals, precious stones and metals, machinery and electrical equipment.

We do all have relatively high GDP scores. Iceland is still a bit behind us, but your economy is getting better.

We have also started negotiations with several countries, please see the report that has been sent to your homes. That should be all?" He looked at the others but none had any additions.

They ate the rest of the meal in comfortable silence and through an unspoken agreement they spent the rest of the evening together, walking in the park, eating sweets and enjoying each others company.

-:- -:- -:- -:- -:-

Notes:

EFTA (European Free Trade Association) is exactly that, a group of nations who work together to ensure free trade. They had more members, but many left to join the EU for some reason. Of all the EFTA members only Norway and Switzerland has not tried to join the EU after the formation of EFTA.

The nations I listed in the EU meeting are, as far as I know, all the EU members.

Author's note:

I am not satisfied with how this chapter turned out, but I do not know what to change.

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed reading this chapter. Please review, follow and favourite.

Shrizyne


	12. Stupetårnet på Hamar

Stupetårnet på Hamar…

"Some people really should have an obligatory economy course," Norway grumbled as he sat down and poured coffee from his thermos. "The way they throw away money on useless … things …" Denmark snorted into his lunch beer.

"Like you're one to talk," he grinned. Norway glared at him.

"Don't know what you're talking about," he said.

"The diving tower at Hamar!" Denmark announced happily.

"...I'm leaving."

"Fine, fine, but it was stupid."

"It was not."

"Norway, you made a diving tower that didn't work," Sweden said, his blue eyes alight with mirth, which was as close to laughing as he ever came in public. "It was stupid."

"It was new technology," Norway protested.

"That didn't work!"

"You're annoying."

"You're making a scene," Iceland said and turned a page in his book. He looked up. "Where's the coffee?"

"Here!" Finland cheered as he set the coffee pots on the table. "It was empty so I got some more, but then I thought maybe we'd drink all of that too so I thought I would get the machine from the kitchen but apparently they don't allow visitors in the kitchen here and when I went in anyways they said I wasn't allowed to steal kitchen appliances so I had to leave, but I still hadn't gotten the coffee so I went to the table with refreshments and thought I'd take a pot, but it was tiny so I took two, and then I was halfway back here before I realized that two might be too little so I went back and took the rest." He plopped down on his seat and filled his cup. "So, what were you talking about?"

"Hej Fin, have you heard about the diving tower at Hamar?" Denmark asked. Finland sipped his coffee thoughtfully.

"That's the one that cost twenty-five million more than budget?"

"Twenty-two," Norway corrected under his breath.

"You overran the budget by 2000%," Sweden deadpanned. Norway just shrugged and poured some more coffee.

"So, why exactly didn't it work?" Iceland asked. Norway glared at Sweden and Denmark.

"Honest mistake," he said in answer to something they hadn't said yet. Denmark guffawed and Sweden just shook his head.

"Norway built a diving tower in Mjøsa, by Hamar, but the oil in the mechanics he used for it to move with the water level froze in the cold." The four Nordics looked at the responsible nation.

"... You're annoying."

"You forgot the cold!" Norway stood up abruptly.

"At least I've got money to fund my escapades," he bit, then he left. The other Nordics burst out in laughter, well Denmark and Finland did, but you get the picture. Norway's only consolation was that they had spoken their own languages, so no one else would have to know.

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Translations:

Stupetårnet på Hamar (norwegian) - The diving tower at Hamar

Author's note:

This actually happened. They set aside 40 000 kroner for a diving tower, the next year they set up a budget of 1,5 million kroner. It ended up costing 23,4 million kroner.

I am also watching football, and finding it amusing that one of Switzerlands players has the name Liechtsteiner.


	13. Evil Closet Communists Secrets Exposed

Closet-Communist, not.

Norway was not entirely sure what the subject of the meeting was, but it hardly mattered, as America and Russia had turned the debate into another of their arguments.

 _How childish the younger nations are,_ he thought, ignoring his own childish tendency to hit or strangle Denmark whenever he got too annoyed. _The Cold War ended decades ago, have they really not learned to forgive and pretend to forget?_ And for some reason he could still not remember what they were supposed to debate. He leafed through his notes and tried to ignore the yelling.

And it worked, or rather, it worked until he snapped. He was not sure exactly why it made him so angry, he had heard it hundreds of times and it had not affected him at all, but this time it just made him so angry.

"Stupid Commie," America said. Norway did not even realise he had spoken until the words were out.

"He's a capitalist you ignorant moron, more so than most of Europe." And suddenly they were all staring at him like they did not have anything better to do, they could not be that surprised, he was not always silent at meetings. Finally America replied.

"Shut up, we all know that you're a commie too!"

"I am not a communist."

America was about to say something when Denmark suddenly slammed a fist on the table, spilling Norway's coffee, and ran up to talk to Germany. Norway excused himself to get more coffee and hopefully avoid whatever idiocy the Dane was up to.

When he came back in the room was silent. He looked up at the podium and did a double-take.

"Hva faen er det du driver med?" he asked in his usual deadpan voice. Denmark beamed at him.

"Come on, Norge! Just get out of the closet already, no one will laugh. Promise."

"Danmark, jeg advarer deg…"

"I thought we'd cleared up this a long time ago," Iceland muttered. Finland looked utterly nonplussed and quietly asked Sweden whether this would be a repeat of the Closet-Affair of '07. Sweden hummed an answer and joined Norway in glaring at Denmark.

"Norwegen, please take your seat so that we can continue this meeting," Germany ordered, ignoring the fact that this presentation was not a part of the meeting schedule. Norway nodded and sat down, pretending to not notice Denmark at all. Which was hard when the screen switched from showing the Norwegian flag to showing the words "Proof that Norway is secretly a communist!"

 _The fuck?_

"Proof nr. 1!" Denmark exclaimed, pointing at the screen that now showed a picture of something that looked like an outdoor news sending or talk show. "This picture is from Norway's state channel and the program was aired on his Constitution Day. Now look up in the left corner!"

 _This again?_

In the upper left corner was a banner telling them that this was sent from Oslo, Norway. The nations studied it for a bit before whispers spread as they realised what the design of the banner looked like. There, on the official TV sending from the Norwegian state channel, on the nation's National Day, was the North Korean flag. Admittedly without the star, but it was still easily recognisable.

Denmark changed to the next slide of his presentation. It showed an anonymous building on a cloudy day with the Soviet flag waving proudly from two flagpoles.

"That was an honest mistake," Norway said before Denmark could explain the picture. He had raised his voice slightly above the din caused by the others continued whispering. China took a look at the picture and laughed good-naturedly before offering Norway some snacks.

"It's all forgiven," China smiled, "Very funny mistake."

"This," Denmark said pointing to the screen, and completely disregarding Norway's warning glare, "was supposed to be the Chinese flag, but the man who hung them up made a mistake. Real question is: why does Norway still have a Soviet flag? My third and last point is that one often work with those who are similar to oneself. Norway's and Cuba's Workers' Unions are collaborating and they have a joint project involving medical personnel."

"I KNEW IT!" America yelled, "YOU ARE FORCING YOUR POOR SUBJECTS TO UNDERGO GENETIC EXPERIMENTS IN ORDER TO MAKE AN ARMY OF EVIL BRAINWASHED COMMIE SUPER MUTANT SOLDIERS!"

"..."

"YOUR EVIL PLANS FOR WORLD DOMINATION WILL BE THWARTED BY THE HERO!"

Cuba and Norway looked at each other.

"Idiot, eh."

"I WILL NUKE YOUR ASSES INTO TOMORROW AND DENY YOU ALL MACDONALDS UNTIL THE END OF THE WORLD!"

"WILL YOU SHUT UP YOU DUMMKOPF! AND DON'T YOU DARE MENTION ANY OF MY PAST OR YOU WILL REGRET IT! NOW STOP YELLING YOU IDIOT, YOU ARE INTERRUPTING THE MEETING WITH YOUR CHILDISH AND EMPTY THREATS!"

"THEY'RE NOT EMPTY! OR CHILDISH! I'LL MAKE AN ARMY OF GIANT ROBOTS CONTROLLED BY THE BEST OF MY ENGINEERS AND PILOTS WHO ALSO HAPPENS TO KNOW MARTIAL ARTS AND THEN I'LL CRUSH YOU!"

"FUCKING FINE!" Norway yelled, following America up on the meeting table, sending papers, pens and cups flying. "YOU DO THAT AND I'LL SEND MY ARMY OF EVIL SNOWMEN TO FREEZE YOUR ROBOTS ARSES AND SAVE US ALL FROM GLOBAL WARMING WHEN I'M AT IT!"

"I KNEW IT, YOU'RE STEALING MY IDEAS TO TAKE OVER THE WORLD!"

"IS THIS A FIGHT!" Denmark yelled unexpectedly. _I really should've seen that coming._ "LET'S GO VIKING ON THEIR ASSES!" and with a warcry he charged the closest nation, who just happened to be Italy, therefore he was met by Germany instead and the two blondes crashed into the table, successfully shaking America and Norway of their feet and inconveniencing/hurting/enraging most of their fellow nations.

The fight had escalated to a worldwide brawl when Denmark somehow ended up beside Finland, which would've been fine, if he had not decided to tell the other that Russia had offered to give him more breadbaskets. The little nation went on a rampage in order to get to Russia. Before long the nations heard the shrill cry of

"Kippis herra Molotov!" Whereupon the building was consumed by fire. The countries gathered outside, thankfully no one had sustained any serious injuries, and watched the firefighters dousing the flames with water.

The poor medics who had come with the firefighters watched in disbelief as Germany dusted off himself and turned to the crowd.

"Are there any question?" No answer. "Then this meeting is adjourned," he said with all the dignity one can muster when one is standing in front of a burning building with a torn shirt, blood running from one's nose and a blackening eye. The countries nodded, smiled, shook hands and said farewell to their friends before leaving, as if this was all a normal occurrence.

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Translations:

Hva faen er det du driver med (norwegian) - What the fuck are you doing

Danmark, jeg advarer deg (norwegian) - Denmark, I warn you

Norwegen (german) - Norway

Kippis herra Molotove (finnish) - Cheers mister Molotov (according to google translate, don't trust me on this one.)

Historical/Cultural notes:

I've heard some say Norway is communistic (which is impossible as it is a kingdom), and I decided to look for proof. All of the things Denmark mentions are true, though America blows it out of proportion. I have the news articles here, unfortunately most of them are in Norwegian:

www . dagbladet . no / 2015/05/17/ nyheter / innenriks / nrk / 17_mai / nord-korea / 39216640 /

www . nrk . no / urix / norge-utvider-samarbeidet-med-cuba- 1 . 11109132

www . dagbladet . no / 2010/09/24/ nyheter / kina / nordland / tabbe / 13539402 /

en . escambray . cu / 2015 / cuba-and-norways-working-movements-united /

Russia, Finland and breadbaskets… That was a reference to the Winter War, when Russia bombed Helsinki, and told the rest of the world that they were dropping humanitarian aid to the starving Finnish people. Later during that war the Molotov Cocktail became standard equipment for Finnish troops, and according to some of my sources it was often thrown with the cry "Here is a drink to go with the bread."

Author's note:

So… I'm a bit late with this, and it isn't really good… But I'm happy you're still reading, so thank you for that.

Anyways, I assume that you've already read the chapter, so please review, follow and favourite.

Have a nice day/night,

Shrizyne


	14. 188 minutes of terror

_This chapter deals with a terrorsit attack. If this is a trigger, please do not read._ 22\. Juli, 188 minutes of terror

My little country

A little place, a handful peace

Tossed out among fells and fjord

Another day, another meeting. These week-long conferences were a bore, it always felt like they lasted longer than the seven days that were announced. Whoever had decided a seven-day conference was a good idea anyways? Saturday and Sunday meetings were decidedly unpopular, no one wanted a meeting during the week-end, apart from the one who scheduled them of course. Probably just as well that they were not told who did it, the guy would have been lynched.

They were currently having a ten-minutes coffee break and Norway was having a pleasant conversation with England about how annoying queues are.

When the break ended everyone found their seats and sat down in silence, and then the meeting started again. It was a smaller meeting of course, or it wouldn't have been so silent. The clock showed 15.20 in large black numbers, and England was presenting the latest statistics on international economic growth. Norway looked up from his notes for a moment, glancing around the room.

Germany was sitting on his left, diligently writing notes, neat rows of letters in black in across the white paper. On the other side of Germany sat Japan, he too taking notes, some in English, some in his own kanji. On the other side of the table was Netherlands, who had pushed his chair back on two legs and chewed thoughtfully on his unlit pipe. Beside him were Ukraine. The sweet woman had placed a basket of new-baked bread on the table and smilingly urged them to eat. On her left, in front of Norway, was Switzerland, his rifle leant towards the back of his chair while he concentrated on England's speech. The eighth person in the room was Poland who didn't pay as much attention to England as he did to his nails where he was painting a new layer of bright pink nail polish.

He turned back to England and continued taking notes. Then, suddenly, he felt a pain in his chest, almost like he was shot. It took him by surprise and he reflexively curled up to protect himself, which caused him to hit his head on the table with a loud bang. He spit an angry curse, but immediately regretted in in favour of keeping his mouth shut and fighting down the nausea.

"Norway? Are you okay?" England asked, his only answer being a groan as Norway pressed his throbbing forehead against the cold table. He slowly straightened up, both of his arms crossed over his chest and his hands pressed against his heart. The clock showed 15.26.

"My apologies," Norway said, wincing slightly as he pressed down harder on the general area of his heart. The pain was not so great now, he could almost ignore it, but the insistent burning was annoying. "Does anyone here have an internet connection?"

"No" was the answer from the others.

"Norway?" Germany asked, half turned in his chair, "What happened?" Norway shook his head slowly.

"I do not know," he answered. He closed his eyes and took a few calm breaths, distantly hearing a lone panicked voice, sirens, smelled the dust in the air, and then he was back in the meeting. "An explosion maybe, in Oslo. I am sure they would call me if it was important." Germany nodded and England reluctantly continued his presentation, but not without a worried glance at Norway, who stared back with his usual poker-face.

A while later he received an sms.

 _Bomb in Regjeringskvartalet. PM and King safe. Est. 10 casualties, 12 injured hospitalized. Airport, trams, busses running. Unknown perpetrator(s)._

Shocking, yes. Horrifying, yes. Unexpected, definitively. Impossible to live with and accept? No. Worse things had happened in the past. That does not mean it is not horrible, but it happens. Bombs happens. It is not going to destroy him. His police will find the persons responsible and they will be suitably punished. Worse things had happened and he had survived. Just a bomb. Nothing major. It will be fine. He will survive. He will be fine. Absolutely fine-

"-rway? Norway!"

"Ja?" he responded, cheeks faintly pink in embarrassment. Everyone were looking at him with concern. Or curiosity. Or a glare, in Switzerland's case.

"Are you sure you are fine?" England asked, staring at him with furrowed brows. Giant furrowed eyebrows.

"Yes, of course, I'm just f- " the sentence was abruptly cut off as a scene of terrified teens running through a campground flashed before his eyes. He paled as he watched wide eyed faces contort in terror. Everything was muted, and he was painfully aware of his the beat of his heart.

Then he was back to the meeting room again, pain burning in his chest and adrenaline coursing through his veins as his instincts told him to flee. He did not flee far, he caught himself before he exited the room, pressing his back into a corner and breathing deeply trying to calm down. An irrational fear clouded his mind, a fog screaming at him to run, flee, hide. Irrational because there was nothing in the room he needed to hide from.

The others were on their feet, Germany and England closest to him. Ukraine's hands were clasped nervously in front of her, Poland was staring at him as if he was crazy. Switzerland had his gun up with the safety catch off, alternately glaring at Norway and staring suspiciously at the door, Netherlands was doing much the same, covering the window with a gun he had pulled out of somewhere. Japan stepped forward to join England and Germany, but they all made sure to keep their distance from Norway.

Eventually he lifted his head, his face pale and his eyes unusually wide.

"I'm under attack," he whispered, struggling to force words past the lump in his throat. He shook his head violently.

Just at that moment the door banged open and a white blur flew in with a cry of "Noregur!" Norway straightened up and tried to balance himself properly, but was slammed into the wall by his little brother, who proceeded to hug him.

Not to say that Norway had not waited for this day forever, but as his brother clung to him he was starting to feel a little… creeped out.

"Island, what's happening?" he asked, hesitantly wrapping his arms around the smaller Nordic.

"Go to hell," Iceland mumbled into his shirt, "Don't pretend you don't know."

"I do not know what you ar-"

"I felt it. I felt it Noregur. It hurt me."

"Little brother, I am so sorry…"

"Don't." the younger brother snapped. Denmark coughed behind them.

"Norway, what is on Utøya?"

"... why?"

"Your newspaper… says there is shots fired there."

"No. God no." Norway hid his face in his brother's hair.

"Norway, what is on Utøya? Why would anyone attack there?" Sweden asked, trying to get Norway to face the situation.

"... Ap's youth camp… There should be five or six hundred teens there now. Please pardon me, I need to make a phone call." He carefully extracted himself from Iceland's thight (read 'crushing') embrace. When he came back in looked tired. Old.

"There is nothing I can do," he said to the other Nordics. "I can only sit and wait." And he dumped into his seat, set his elbows on the table and leant his face into his hands. The others in the room approached him, patting him on the shoulder, the back, offering their condolences. Other nations trickled in as they heard the news, and his family stayed with him through it all.

His phone rang and he snatched it up, holding it to his ear.

"Ja?" he acknowledged the one on the other end. "Fortsett. Jeg forstår. Ja. Sees, ha det." He stared at the phone for a long time, while Iceland rubbed his back. Then he sighed and stood up. All eyes immediately fell on him. "There has, as you know, been an attack in Norway. A bomb in Oslo, and a shooting at a youth camp. The police has arrested one man who claims responsibility for both actions. The man is a … he is a Norwegian national…" A deep shuddering breath. "Anyways, I am going home now and I will be absent for the rest of this conference. Please excuse me."

He was followed by his family. First to the airport. Then, after a short argument, they followed him into the plane. They would not leave him for the next week and a half. He was barely allowed to the toilet alone. It did not really bother him, it was a relief to not be alone, to have someone around him.

They went to the "rose march". They went to the concert. And that is where the dam broke. Norway stood with his family, listening to his people sing, and tears trailed down his cheeks.

"Surrounded by enemies,

Enter your time!

During a storm of blood

Devote yourself to fight!

Maybe you ask in fear,

unprotected , open:

What am I fighting with

What is my weapon?

Here is your shield against violence,

Here is your sword:

THe belief in our lives,

The worth of mankind.

For all our future's sake,

Seek it and nurse it,

Die if you must - but

Enhance and strengthen it!"

They sang the song to it's end, all fourteen verses. They held roses up to the sky and sang together.

"A sky full of stars,

Blue ocean as far as you can see,

An Earth where flowers grow,

Can you wish for more?

Together we will live,

Each sister and each brother,

Little children of the rainbow,

And of an fertile Earth."

It is strange, the solace one can find in song. The act of singing together, songs that everyone know. Or write a new song, to process what has happened.

"My grey hoodie is matched by the slush "Den grå hoodien min er matcha med sørpen

The concrete here is emotionless Betongen her er følelsesløs

The blocks of flats we live in are suffocated by fog Og blokkene vi bor i er kvalt i tåke

I'm a peacock" Jeg er en påfugl"

The Nordics followed him home afterwards. Sweden went to the kitchen to make dinner and Denmark and Finland disappeared to somewhere. Iceland and Norway ended up sitting in the living room, listening to music. Norway did not speak much in that period right after the attack. But he did not need to either. His people did it for him, and he rose on their national pride.

"We have chosen to meet cruelty with closeness. We have chosen to meet hate with unity. We have chosen to show what we stand for," Crown Prince Haakon.

"Hate is a nearby feeling. The wish for revenge is a natural reaction. But we, Norway, will not hate, and we will not avenge," Eskil Pedersen.

"Evil can kill a man, but never conquer a people," Jens Stoltenberg, Prime Minister.

"If one man can show so much hate, think of all the love we all can show together," Helle Gannestad, AUF.

"We won't be shot to silence," AUF.

"An attack on political participation is an attack on our democracy," Jens Stoltenberg.

"We will retaliate with more democracy," Jens Stoltenberg.

"They don't want to be mourned to death,

But live in bravery and faith.

Only in courageous hearts

Runs the blood of the fallen," Nordahl Grieg

"We are so few in this country, each fallen is brother and friend," Nordahl Grieg.

And in the end he won. His people won. He kept to his ideals, he followed his laws. The perpetrator, the terrorist was sentenced to 21 years in prison for terrorism. There is no way in heaven or hell that one man could make him change or disregard the law.

"I saw you in the street yesterday

When the city lay cold and large

I saw you were new in life

And I saw you were new in the North

And you mother carried a suitcase

With everything she owned in it

And you carried her dream

Of someday being free

And you gave me a smile,

Butterfly in Winterland

No one can take from you

The colors you showed me

And must the dream you bear be true

Butterfly in Winterland"

-:- -:- -:- -:- -:-

Translations:

Noregur (icelandic) - Norway

Island (norwegian) - Iceland

Ja (norwegian) - Yes

Fortsett. Jeg forstår. Ja. Sees, ha det. (norwegian) - Continue. I understand. Yes. See you later, goodbye.

Historical/Cultural notes:

You probably, hopefully, got this by now, but I'll say it anyways. This is a story about the terrorist attack in Norway on the 22. Of July 2011.

A Norwegian citizen named Ander Behring Breivik bombed the Regjeringskvartalet, where most of the government offices are located, including the Prime Minister's office. Luckily this was in July, Norway's holiday month, and it was a Friday afternoon, so most workers had already left the building. Eight people were killed and at least 209 injured.

The same man later made his way to the Labour Party's (Arbeiderpartiets) Youth Camp on an island called Utøya, he was dressed as a policeman. He shot at the people there, but spared an 11-year-old boy, who told him he was to young to die. 69 people died on the island, in the water around it or of injuries received in the attack. At least 110 wounded.

77 people were killed that day, most of them were young. The average age of those killed on Utøya is 20. The youngest was fourteen.

The dead were from 18 of Norway's 19 counties, and the injured were from every part of the country, including Svalbard.

It is said to be the worst thing that has happened in Norway since the Second World War. It is also the first terrorist attack in Norway, and hopefully the last.

A survey states that one in four Norwegians knows someone who was affected by the terror.

Author's notes:

I am not satisfied with this chapter, and I do not mean to offend anyone with it. Most of the songs I used are well known in Norway, except maybe the one in the beginning, "My little country" or "Mitt lille land" and "Påfugl" by Carpe Diem. The others are songs we are taught in school. Nordahl Grieg was a Norwegian journalist who died in 1942, when his plane was shot down during a bomb raid over Germany.

I remember the day it happened, I was in Russia at the time. We were watching the news, and everything was dubbed to Russian, but we saw the Norwegian flag, and we saw Obama speaking, and we saw Putin speaking, and we knew something was wrong. Later my dad received a text from my grandfather that sort of explained what was going on. I was too little at the time, so no one bothered explaining the whole thing to me.

It was not before I came back to school and the mother of one of the dead came and held a speech that I realized someone I knew had died. I admit that I did not know her well, but she was a person I looked up to, who always smiled at everyone. It was a bit of a shock.

Bad things happens in this world, and all we can do is to stay together and stay peaceful.

Live well,

Shrizyne


	15. of Bananas

na na nana banananana

"Sweden?"

"Hm?" Sweden responded, glancing (glaring) at his western neighbor. Norway held out a banana.

"Could you peel this for me?"

"..."

"... please?"

"..." He sighed and accepted the banana, peeled it quickly and went to hand it back, only to find Norway holding out another banana.

"This one too? Please." A new heavy sigh and another banana was peeled. A third was offered.

"Not without pay," Sweden grumbled, definitively glaring now. Norway nodded slowly and searched his pockets.

"Very well then. You're hired, the pay is 388 kroner an hour," he said, and placed the money on the table. Then he pulled a crate of bananas out of nowhere and left the room. Sweden looked from the crate, to the door and back again. He then counted the money, sighed heavily and went to work.

 _Time skip_

"HEJ SWed…" Denmark trailed off, staring at the other nation. "What the fuck are you doing?" Which was an understandable reaction, seeing as Sweden was sitting at his kitchen table peeling bananas, a large pile of peeled ones to his left and an equally large pile of banana peel to his right.

"Peelin' bananas," Sweden responded.

"Why?"

"Don't know, ask Norway, he's paying." Denmark looked at him in disbelief.

"Norway no-that's-too-expensive-can't-throw-away-money-on-useless-stuff are paying you to peel bananas? He couldn't just do it himself?"

"Hm," he hummed in a confirming and agreeing sort of way.

"You sure?"

"Three eightyeight an hour. He's got the money."

"Why, why did I let him have all the seabed. WHY?" Denmark cried half-jokingly, raising his hands dramatically to heaven. Sweden rolled his eyes at him.

"At the time we all laughed at it, t'was just rumours and speculation. No one believed it."

"He did, obviously." The southerner tried, and failed, to pout and proceeded to break into laughter. Sweden chuckled with.

"He could've, or he was stupid, or drunk or had a bout of insanity."

"Or thought he had nothing to lose."

"Or that, for some reason I find that to be more likely than him believing in anything."

"He believes in magic," Denmark objected, his face red with the effort of holding back his laughter.

"Insanity it is then," Sweden agreed with a huge grin.

The two of them were still joking around when Norway let himself in the front door. Not that they noticed, their laughter easily drowned out his footsteps. He knocked twice on the doorframe.

"You're awfully chipper," he accused when they turned to face him. "Are you drunk?"

"Are you," Denmark shot back, still red from laughter.

"...No. Not yet."

"We'll correct that soon enough, just one question; what are you gonna do with the bananas?"

"...What do you usually do with bananas?"

"Eh…"

"They're for eating. Idiot."

"..."

"..."

"Let's go get drunk."

And thus the three Scandinavian brothers ended up in a bar just over the Øresund bridge, after a short stop to cool down after the argument that broke out when Denmark started teasing the two other about alcohol prices.

-:- -:- -:- -:- -:- -:- -:-

Translations:

Kroner (all Scandinavian languages) - currency used in Scandinavia (directly-"crowns")

Hej - equal to and pronounced as "hey"

Notes:

388 NOK (Norwegian kroner) are worth around 47 USD

The banana thing is real. There is apparently a factory that hires people to peel bananas for a bread topping called Banos, which destroys all my childhood fantasies of owning a Banos-factory filled with little monkey-like robots. And, for some reason, my fellow countrymen does not feel like taking this easy, well-enough-paid job, leaving them for the Swedes.

It has also been brought to my attention that the Danes are annoyed that we got all the oil, and the Swedes are annoyed that we are getting so pampered by our oil-money that we can't be waiters or clean or peel bananas.

Author's note:

I believe an apology is in order, a writer's block combined with a multitude of distractions has kept me from writing as much as I would like to. However, school starts this week, and with less spare time I probably won't be as distracted. Probably.

This chapter is brought to you by my sister's Home-Alone cheese-and-egg pie and a long day of watching many boring (and a few good) films.

Auf Wiedersehen,

Shrizyne


	16. what happens in Magic Club

What happens in Magic Club

"That is the stupidest thing I've ever heard." Despite his accusation Romania was grinning madly, mostly in amusement at England's futile struggle to loosen his hug.

"As much as it pains me, I am afraid I have to agree with him. Now let go of me, git!"

Romania only laughed and tightened his grip. Norway ignored his friends antics and continued reading.

"Sooo~, why do you want to do this?"

"It works."

"Are you saying our spells doesn't work? Because last time I checked, they do."

"You mean the time when you summoned Russia instead of the 'Ultimate Evil'?"

"I'm not sure whether that is a valid point or not, but it is a fact that many of the spells we have cast has had unsatisfactory results," he looked up from his book and pointed to a bag on the floor. "I brought all that we need."

"Ugh, fine" England suddenly decided and stood up, forcing Romania to let go.

"I can't believe I am doing this," Romania groaned and began searching the bag Norway brought. "Is there any red in here?"

"Probably."

"Found it!" Romania yelled triumphantly and left for the bathroom, long red fabric trailing after him. Norway crouched down by the bag and pulled out a long blue piece, before looking at England.

"Green," the other replied and snatched the material when it was handed to him.

 _Some time later, in England's basement_

"This is so stupid, I can't believe I'm doing this," England grumbled as he thundered down the last few steps, almost stumbling in the floor-length dress. "How can anyone move in this?"

Romania followed closely behind him, his borrowed blood-red dress billowed around him as he skipped over to the strange pentagon on the floor.

"Say, Norway? Why do you even have these?" he asked, throwing his arms out dramatically to indicate the dresses.

"None of your business," the Scandinavian bit and turned his back on them.

"Fine then, but you're sure this works?"

"It does."

"And how would you know."

"Experience."

"Okay… Anyways, let's get on with this, shall we?" Romania sang, flitting around in the cellar, his shadow dancing over the walls like a deformed monster.

"I do hope the door is securely locked," England muttered as he took his place in the circle.

 _Later that night/early next morning_

"So tireeeeed," Romania yawned. The three of them stood at England's door, about to part ways and get back to their homes.

"Til next time then," England said, and they parted with an unspoken promise.

" _What happens in Magic Club, stays in Magic Club."_ There was no way the would let this get out.

-:- -:- -:- -:- -:- -:- -:-

No translations today today, so I'll jump straight to:

Cultural/historical notes:

The Old Norse (Vikings) believed that being a woman or dressing in woman's clothing would strengthen your magic. It might have been because the goddess of magic, Frigg (alternately spelt Frigga), also was the goddess of marriage, love and fate. It could have been because Odin, the god of magic, fate, wisdom, poetry, death etc. and husband of Frigg, was a notorious womaniser and had children with three or four other women (not that Frigg was any better, she slept with both of his brothers when he was out travelling).

This would explain the pictures I've seen of Norway dressed in a purple dress. There is an actual legitimate historically correct reason for why Norway would cross-dress.

Author's notes:

School has started, I'm behind in all subjects but English and my Maths teacher wants to put me down a level. Other than that I have no idea what to write for the next chapter, so a bit help would be appreciated.

På gjensyn,

Shrizyne


	17. sing me a Lullaby

Go to sleep little baby

They sat close together, Iceland with his cloak wrapped around him like a cocoon and Norway with his arms around his brother and his own cloak over both their shoulders. It was early autumn in the mountains and a cold breeze whispered through the stiff grass.

The two didn't notice the chill, Norway had found a snug little shelter on the mountainside. Three large stones on their north and west side took off for the wind, on the south they were shielded from prying eyes by a dwarf birch. To the east was only a steep slope overgrown with heather and strewn with stones of varying sizes. If he strained his eyes, he could make out the dark fjord glinting in the sparse moonlight, more than four long days march down the valley.

Norway shifted slightly and turned his attention to the stars. The stone dug into his back, but he ignored it in favour of the myriad of tiny silver pinpricks of light. The skies behind them were pale purple and dark blue, the moon hung like gigantic moorlight.

 _Maybe there is a fairy holding up the moon, hoping to lure unsuspecting souls up there, never to be seen again._ He almost laughed at the ridiculous thought. As if anyone would ever visit the moon.

They must look a bit strange, he decided. Two children alone in the mountains. He, much to his annoyance, didn't look like he had lived more than thirteen winters. Old enough to work, but not old enough to be alone. Little Iceland could maybe pass for a three-year old. Maybe. But he did not need to worry about such trivial matters, because no one would see them any time soon. He did not want to be found, therefore no one would find him.

Iceland yawned.

"Time for sleep little one," Norway hummed. Iceland shook his head.

"Don't want to," he grumbled. A hand went up to rub his eye.

"Go to sleep."

"No."

"Go to sleep."

"Nu-uh," the younger insisted.

"Uh yes," was the immediate response. "Go to sleep, go to sleep, go to sleep…" Norway chanted quietly, his voice rising and falling soothingly.

"Fine," Iceland groaned. "Sing for me," he commanded, Norway laughed silently.

"Of course little brother, but only if you sleep." Iceland huffed but let Norway take his coat and place it on the ground. Iceland's outer coat was bundled together and would serve as a pillow. When Iceland curled up on the cloak Norway put his own over him.

"Comfortable?" he asked. The younger nodded.

"Sing," he requested softly, or, he started to, but was interrupted by a yawn. Norway smiled broadly.

"Bium, bium, bambalo,

bambalo and dillidillido.

I rock my little friend to sleep

But outside there is a face in the window."

"Noregur?" a thin voice whispered.

"Hm?"

"What if it's dangerous?"

"It's outside little one." There was a little pause before the reply came.

"But we're also outside." Norway sighed and loosened his knife from his belt.

"Here you go, this is a knife, now you are safe."

"But…"

"If something bad happens, you stab it."

"Okay." Silence wrapped itself around them and Norway thought Iceland asleep, when a whisper dispelled the illusion.

"Are you sure?" the child asked.

"Iceland, humans are hunters, we are just like humans only stronger, nothing is going to attack us. Besides, your big brother is here, you'll never find a safer place than at my side."

"Why is that?" the younger asked tiredly.

"Because big brothers are stronger than both Tor and Magni together."

"Oh." They stayed in silence for some time. "Noregur?"

"Hm?"

"Sing for me?"

"Of course, another one this time?"

"Ja." And Norway sang and the melody rose and fell. Iceland tried to stay awake and listen, but he kept nodding off and could only make out a few strofes here and there.

"... and the man he strung the bow across his knee, hei fara, across his knee

And then he shot the crow so she fell down

Hei fara, faltu riltu raltu ra…

… skinned to crow and cut her to pieces...

... preserved the tongue for the Yule meal,

Hei fara, faltu riltu raltu ra

From the entrails he made twelve pairs of rope, hei fara, twelve pairs of rope…

… and the beak he used for a church-boat…"

Norway looked down at his little brother and stopped singing. The younger had curled up in his sleep, one hand tight around the knife (still sheathed, he wasn't stupid), and the other clutching the hem of Norway's tunic.

The Scandinavian sighed wearily, but it morphed into a yawn, and with a final wary glance around him, he fell into a vigilant state of half-sleep.

-:- -:- -:- -:- -:-

Tranlations:

Noregur (icelandic) - Norway

Ja (norse, icelandic, norwegian) - Yes

Those words in the songs that you do not understand are just those nonsensical sounds that people feel are necessary in children's songs.

Cultural notes:

The songs I used are Icelandic and Norwegian lullabies, I'd only heard the Norwegian one (about the man killing a crow) but I kind of like them, although the lyrics could be a bit strange to people who did not grow up with them.

Also, Norwegian parents do not give their children knives to ward off nightmares (and neither does Icelandic parents, I think).

Author's note:

This was in part based on the tradition of giving boys knives when they're named, and my father giving me a knife for my first birthday. It was a nice knife too, a kukri designed for killing sheep, I'm sure I still have it somewhere…

I am pretty sure this chapter is late, one would think time is easier to keep track of now that school has started, but apparently not.

Anyhow, please read (I sort of assumed you already did that, but whatever) and review,

På gjensyn,

Shrizyne


	18. Dutch Prison Crisis

Dutch prison crisis

"Noorwegen, a word?" Netherlands asked with the typical informality of North-Europeans. Norway waved Denmark away.

"Sees," he said before turning to greet the taller nation. "'Dag Nederland, what is it?"

"Sorry to hold you up," Netherlands said, and chewed on a straw. "Just going to take a few moments, once Belgiu-"

"Hoy brother! You wanted to talk to me?"

"You're late."

"Barely a minute."

"Two minutes, and twenty-three seconds."

"It's nothing."

"Time is money."

"And waffles are delicious. Oh, good day Norvége, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to ignore you, but my brother can be such a nitpicker at times."

"It's fine." Netherlands cleared his throat pointedly.

"If we could get down to business? I've got empty prisons." Belgium and Norway stared blankly for several moments, waiting for something more. When nothing came they blinked owlishly.

"That's great!" Belgium said with a smile. "But I don't see why we need to know that?"

"Empty prisons gets closed down, and the guards lose their jobs."

"That would be bad."

"What I meant to say is, I have some cells to spare, you can rent one of my prisons." There was a brief pause where Belgium and Norway thought about it.

"Sounds good, call later and we'll arrange a meeting." The Netherlands and Norway nodded a farewell to each other, and Norway left the other to be dragged away by Belgium. The last he heard before slamming the cardoor was Belgium singing "waffletime~!"

-:- -:- -:- -:- -:-

Translations:

Noorwegen (dutch) - Norway

Sees (norwegian) - See you

'Dag (norwegian) - Good day (informal dialect, similar to "G'day")

Nederland (nor.) - Netherlands

Norvége (french) - Norway (according to Google Translate)

Notes:

The Netherlands does actually import convicts from Belgium and Norway, you can read more about this here: bbc news/ magazine - 37904263

I have also heard that Northern Europeans tend to be informal, also in important meetings, and that Norwegians take this to the extreme. We really aren't good at being formal, we don't have a word for 'sir', we call our teachers by their first names, and while honorifics like 'mr.' and 'mrs.' do exist, we don't use them often.

Author's note:

Sorry!

The update wasn't supposed to be so late, or so short, but at least I'm working on several now. Just hang in there, okay?

Please review (I assume you've already read it) and have a nice day,

Shrizyne


	19. Those Grey Days

This chapter is awfully late, and not really fitting the festive season, sorry about that. I am writing a Christmas chapter, it was supposed to be out by the 22nd, then 23rd, then the 24th and so on. It will probably be out by 6th of January, no promises.

-:- -:- -:- -:- -:- -:- -:-

The grey days we never remember

He rolled a coin between his fingers, before settling it in his palm. Another longing look at the sugary pastry, and a sigh. It would be soft to bite into, still slightly warm form the oven. The sweet coating would stick to his fingers and melt on his tongue, and then the strawberry jam would fill his mouth in an explosion of – or was it raspberry? He couldn't remember.

A baby wailed somewhere, shaking him out of his stupor. He stuffed the coin into his pocket with a shudder. He would save it instead, one never knew when one would need it.

At the register, he watched intently as the sum was added up. He handed the flimsy paper money to the cashier and dropped the heavy coins into the machine. The happy clinging seemed to laugh at him, like pixies' schadenfreude.

"Receipt?" the cashier asked.

"Yes, please." A faint smile, a quiet "good-day" later and he was walking down the pavement towards his Oslo-flat. The bag, recyclable mind you, was heavy in his hand and cut into his fingers. Rain started falling, a drizzle at first, but soon enough it was pouring down. The sort of silent, cold, miserable downpour that didn't really seem like much, but still seeped through all clothes. He did not have an umbrella. Or a raincoat for that matter. He continued walking, head bowed, as cold water soaked his clothes and matted his hair to his head. He hunched his shoulders and shuddered at a cold gust of wind.

The key turned effortlessly, the door swung smoothly on well-oiled hinges and he stepped into the warm flat. He sat the groceries down on the floor, shrugged off his sopping wet jacket and winced at the feeling of his shirt plastered uncomfortably, wet, cold against his skin. He then hung it on a

It was not his favourite house, and it was obvious. It was clean, it was warm, it was even decorated in that modern, minimalistic way that was so popular with its smooth surfaces and thing, sharp lines in all its black, white, and silver glory. He supposed he could have filled it with personal paraphernalia from other houses, but he had not yet felt an overwhelming need to do so.

It was an office space. He stopped for a moment, contemplating that thought, then resumed restocking the fridge. An office where he could eat, and sleep on his breaks – and the bed would be so much more comfortable than falling asleep over the desk at his official office.

The sky was darkening outside, but electricity really is a marvellous invention. Pulling an all-nighter was very difficult back in the day, the candles would drip on the paper, or be blown out by the wind. All too often he would be out of candles altogether. Now he sat in front of a computer, the key-board lit by a LED-light. He stared at the screen, reading, and occasionally eating some of the spaghetti he'd made for dinner. "Pasta Morbido" Italy had called it. Then he had glared at him for the rest of the meeting.

 _-Når det ringer-_ he took the phone and held it to his ear.

"Ja?"

"Hallo, jeg ringer fra Go'boken-"

"Not interested."

"But-"

 _-click-_

Back to work.

-:- -:- -:- -:- -:- -:- -:-

Translations:

Pasta morbido - overcooked spaghetti (there is a rumour going around that some Italian was served spaghetti in Norway and called it pasta morbido)

når det ringer (Nor) - when it (the phone) calls (it's from a song)

Ja (Nor) - yes

Hallo, jeg ringer fra Go'boken (Nor) - Hello, I'm calling from Go'boken

Cultural notes:

I don't really have anyone...

Overcooked spaghetti is much too common in Norway.

Recycling is common in Norway, and even the plastic bags you get at the grocery store can be used several times before they are recycled.

Go'boken means 'The good book', they sell children's books.

Author's note:

This chapter is awfully late, I have tried to murder Writer's Block, but it doesn't seem to work.

The storm Urd met the west coast (of Norway) yesterday, and we are still getting powerful gusts of wind. The weather was kind of crazy, it switched between snow, sleet, rain and sun.

Anyhow, I hope you are well,

Sees,

Shrizyne


	20. Christmas

24\. Desember

-It was a successful Christmas, Norway thought as he looked at his family. They were sitting on the floor in front of the open fireplace, playing chutes and ladders. Everyone were relaxed and smiling, joking and laughing. The dice rolled over the floor and a piece moved on the board.

It was night in Norway. A dark, long and cold winter night. Christmas Eve. The other Nordics had arrived the day before, on Little Christmas. Iceland in the morning, to help prepare everything, and the others in time for the porridge party and tree decorating. Norway had been at the house since early in the morning on the 22nd, Black Christmas, and made the house habitable again. It had been empty for a long time.

That first day had been exhausting. The next one was much better, he enjoyed spending time with his brother, even when they were just working in silence. When the others came it was still nice, noisier (someone spoke, what a crime), but nice. The only competitive part had been when they hung the girlanders of flags on the tree. The three Scandinavians battled it out, with a few swears and choice insults, while Iceland and Finland retreated a bit, not wanting to get caught up in the childish fight. Norway's girlander got the highest. Finally, he made sure Iceland got to put the star on the top.

After decorating the tree they sat down around the table again, to eat dessert. They chatted easily about things that weren't really important, but meant something to them. Finland would jokingly nag Norway about eating more, and Norway would mock-scold him for only putting sugar and vanilla sauce on his chocolate pudding, whereupon he would dump two good spoons of whipped cream onto his plate.

The bowls and baskets in Norway's house were filled with fruits and nuts and cakes and sweets. They were never empty, Norway made sure of that. They all went to bed with full bellies and happy smiles.

They hadn't gone to church on the 24th. It wasn't that any of them were Christians, but old habits are difficult to break. Instead Norway had read it before they ate dinner. There was something solemn about it, his deep voice rolling through the room, all of them standing with folded hands and bowed heads. It was a tradition that had survived centuries, it was something familiar, something of the old in this modern ever-changing world.

Tradition was important, which was why Norway snuck out when he was sure the other were occupied, and set a bowl of porridge in the barn. A big bowl, with lots of sugar, a sprinkle cinnamon and a huge butter eye in the middle. He wouldn't offend the farm's nisse.

Food was also important. Norway had had far too little far too often. Now he had set a table that was a veritable cornucopia. There was an abundance of food of all kinds, fish, meat, bird, roots, soups, porridges, bread, fruit, salads, even pasta. Enough food to feed a football team, and still have leftover for the next month. The Nordics dug in.

The dessert was simpler, rice cream with sugar and raspberry sauce and a marzipan pig to whoever found an almond on their plate.

After eating they took each others hands and walked around the Christmas tree singing Christmas carols.

"You green, glittering tree good day

Welcome you whom we gladly greet

With Christmas lights, and Norwegian flags…"

They went round and round and round and round, sometimes faster and sometimes slower, sometimes doing moves to a song. Denmark would suddenly drag them around faster, and some of them would stumble, and the song would be interrupted by laughter. After an eternity they sunk down on the sofas, out of breath and red-faced from laughter. Denmark was soon again, energetic as always, and set about handing out the presents that had been under the tree.

Now they sat there on the floor, drinks in hand, and played chutes and ladders and ate the sweets Norway had set out. Later they would go to sleep, sated and content. They would sleep away the next morning, wake up late and laze away the day. Together. Yes, this was a successful Christmas.

-:- -:- -:- -:- -:-

Translations:

None

Cultural Notes:

In Norway we decorate our Christmas trees with Norwegian flags, though we still use all the usual ornaments and stuff. It started as a protest during the WW2, strange how few who actually take the time to look at the decorations.

The nisse is like a house elf from Harry Potter, only if you offend them they'll kill your animals, make you sick and burn your house to the ground.

We open our presents on the 24th, it's much more relaxing that way. On the 25th we'll sleep in, no one ever plans any parties before five o'clock.

Author's Note:

I told you it'd be out by thirteenth day Christmas! I realize it isn't really 6th of January here anymore, but somewhere in the world it still is, and that's good enough for me. Besides, this is just how it is when inspiration suddenly strikes at 1.45 in the morning.

Happy New Years, I'll hope it'll be good.

Sees,

Shrizyne


	21. Football-induced spilling of Coffee

Norge - Island football

"Island, it's starting!" Norway shouted, dumping down at the couch.

"Making coffee!" came the answer.

"Will you hurry up? It's less than a minute to kick-off!"

"It has started! Why's the damn coffee taking so long - faen - MÅL!" Something crashed to the kitchen floor and broke, fast steps made their way to the living room.

"Mark? Nú þegar?"

"Forty seconds, I have a feeling I'm going to win this," Norway informed the younger with a pleased smile.

"Come on," Iceland groaned as he sat down. "I've worked so hard for this." He sunk down in his seat, only to straighten up and swat away Norway's hand as it came up to ruffle his hair. The ensuing slap war lasted for almost fifteen minutes. They parted, laughing and out of breath, only for Norway to restart it by reaching out to fuss with Iceland's already messy hair. When they finally were done they flopped back, equally out of breath.

"How's the game going?" Norway asked, not bothering to open his eyes. Iceland looked at the score.

"Still zero-one, WAIT!" Norway's eyes flew up and he immediately straightened.

"NOOO… argh!" Iceland groaned, covering his face with his hands. Norway patted his little brother on the back.

"Almost, Snjór, almost. Next one'll go straight in." And a short while later Iceland catapulted himself off the couch, cheering with his arms raised. Norway just crossed his arms.

"There's troll in words, I really should know better by now." He pouted dramatically at Iceland's victorious grin, but both of them failed to hold the expressions, and soon they succumbed to laughter.

A few minutes later they were both sitting at the edge of the couch, staring intently at the screen.

"HAH!" Norway exclaimed and slammed his hands together in a loud clap.

"Why?" Iceland moaned, dramatically placing the back of his hand against his forehead. "Why, oh why is this happening to me? What on earth have I done to deserve this?"

"Dabbling in the Dark Arts, consorting with demons and allowing the Gates of Hell to stay open," came the answer. It was met with a glare.

"Not my fault you were a bad role model."

"HEY! You are not blaming this on me!"

"It's your team! It is literally your fault!"

"You can't blame me for my actions!"

"...Uh… Yes, yes I can."

"...Right." Then, in a little voice, "Was I really a bad brother?"

"...no."

"Then you'll call me -"

"Nope," Iceland said, popping the 'p'. "Don't even go there." Norway's crestfallen expression was heartbreaking, and at the first sign of tears Iceland gave in with a huff.

"Stop it! Við skegg Satans, bróðir, do you always have to do that?"

"I love you, brother."

"... you too. Brother," Iceland mumbled. They sat in silence for the rest of the break, Norway with a satisfied smile, and Iceland boredly picking at folded blanket. When the game started again Norway stuck his hand down between the cushions on the couch and dragged out a bag of crisps. He opened it and shoved a couple of flakes into his mouth.

"Wha?" he asked in response to Iceland's stare.

"How the hell did you fit that under the cushions?" the younger demanded. Norway shrugged.

"Magic," he said, then, as an answer to Iceland's dubious look, "Give it a decade or two, maybe a century, and someone like USA or Japan or even Switzerland will science it out."

"Probably." And then they watched the rest of the game.

 _After the game_

"Ugh! I hate losing," Iceland groaned again. Norway looked at him in quiet amusement as the younger moaned and rolled around on the couch.

"Bah," he said, "You're just saving your good games for the Euro. Besides, 3-2? I've got a suspicion you went easy on your old brother." Iceland stilled for a second.

"Did not!"

"Doesn't matter," Norway replied, catching the other's gaze. "Just promise me you'll make us proud in the Euro." Iceland nodded gravely.

"I-"

"SKIT! HVAD FANDEN!" Both jumped at the sudden shout, which was quickly followed by "Who dropped a coffee pot on the floor?" and "DENMARK WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING IN MY HOUSE?" Iceland launched himself after the remote and turned of the TV.

"Visiting!" the Dane yelled back, "What's the coffee doin' on the floor!"

"Are you accusing me of spilling coffee?"

"Well, duh. Accidents happen, man. Oh, hi Icey." Denmark appeared in the door in time to witness Norway's speechless sputtering and immediately brought out his phone to film it.

"Wha- spilling coffee! Accident? Blasphemy, I tell you, blasphemy! Of all moronic statements this surely takes the cake clean off..." Iceland stood with an eyeroll.

"You are so embarrassing, I'm leaving."

"Bet I see you before you see me!"

"'Cause that's not creepy at all!" Iceland yelled back and slammed the front door like a moody teenager. Both Denmark and Norway looked in the direction of the front door. Then they looked at each other. Awkward silence ensued, until Norway finally broke it.

"Are you staying for dinner?" he asked.

"Sure," Denmark answered.

"Good," Norway stated, and pushed past the Dane. "I'll make some food."

-:- -:- -:- -:- -:-

Translations:

Mål (nor) - goal

Mark? Nú þegar? (ice) - goal? Already?

Snjór (ice) - snow

Við skegg Satans, bróðir (ice) - by Satans beard, brother

Skit! Hvad fanden? (den) - Shit! What the fuck? (lit. what devil?)

Cultural notes:

There are troll in words is a translation of "det går troll i ord", which means 'there is magic in words', or, in other words, that he jinxed it.

My sources are again in Norwegian, but this game actually took place in Norway in the beginning of 2016. It was a private match and Norway won 3-2. www. dagbladet .no/ 2016/06/01 /sport/idrett/fotball/fotballandslaget/per-mathias_hogmo/44422669/

Author's note:

Another chapter. This was sort of a request, and I am terribly late (feels like I'm saying they every chapter), but it's here. I know I didn't write too much about what actually happened in the game, but I didn't watch it, and I'm honestly not very interested in football. At all. Except Iceland's matches in the Euro in 2016. That was awesome. Fragmented sentences. Shutting up.

Reviews and ideas are always appreciated

Arrivederci,

Shrizyne


	22. Idrettsstreiken

Idrettstreiken

The heavy pounding on the door was followed by a crash and a shout of "Entschuldigung!". Then came the distinct sound of military boots on plank. The little house reverberated and old wood creaked under the steady strides. Closer and closer, deliberately slow, like a predator stalking its prey.

Then he stood there, casually leaning on the doorway. He caught the other nation's dull eyes and raised a hand to knock mockingly on the open door.

"Guten morgen, Norwegen," Germany greeted, with a stern expression and a football under his arm. There was an awkward silence, filled by the clicking of knitting needles, before Norway opened his mouth to speak.

"Nice weather we have," he said monotonously. The German blinked, but chalked it up to some backwards Norwegian custom.

"Ja, ja, sure. Perfect for football." He turned half ways in the door, as if to leave.  
"If you say so." Norway unwound some more blue yarn. Germany stopped and looked back with a nonplussed expression, before deciding that Norway probably was a bit slow. Living in such a remote and isolated country would do that to a person. It had made him a homey, unsophisticated farmer, suitably clad in traditional clothing and living in a picturesque, rustic little cabin. Truly the perfect Aryan.

"Do you want to play football?" he half asked, half commanded, with an awkward gesture to the ball under his arm.

"..." Norway carefully folded the unfinished sweater and put it in a basket, together with the knitting needles and the yarn. "I'd rather not," he said, standing up. Germany furrowed his brow.

"Against Denmark, then."

"No."

"Sweden."

"No."

"Why?"

"I do not wish to play."

"You would like to play football. Now." The Norwegian stood up and walked towards a closed door.

"Would you like a cup of coffee?" Norway inquired airily, changing the subject as he opened the kitchen door. Germany followed hesitantly.

"... Ja." He then paused before adding, "Bitte." Norway poured water in a coffee pot and placed it on the stove.

"Would you open that cupboard, please? There should be some bread there." Germany opened the cupboard. The bread was there. A small grey lump. He looked through the rest of the things, after a furtive glance over his shoulder. Norway was watching the pot. Boxes. Most of them were empty. There was a half empty one, half full, with wheat flour, and another with a brown-greyish flour of unknown origin.

"The coffee is ready," Norway said, and Germany started at the sudden noise in the silent kitchen. He turned to find Norway sitting at the kitchen table, which he had somehow already set, with two steaming cups of (presumably) coffee and two plates. He was lazily stirring a bowl of jam, and had turned his head to look out of the window. Germany took three long strides, and sat down at the table.

"I should probably warn you," Norway said, dripping a small amount of jam onto a slice of bread. "That the coffee is not real coffee, it is a substitute."

"A substitute?" Germany asked, pouring jam onto his own slice of bread, before setting it down and lifting the coffee cup to smell the substance.

"Burnt roots of dandelion," Norway replied serenely, sipping his 'coffee'.

"Dandelion," the German deadpanned, subtly pushing his cup away. He reached for the bread instead, and took a bite, only to gag slightly. "Und was ist das?" he croaked.

"Bark bread. There is a shortage of flour, so I mix it with bark. The taste is not optimal, and it does not give much energy, but it does fill ones stomach."

"Hmph." Norway shrugged.

"As you can see, I do not have enough food to throw away energy on unnecessary games."

"Hardly unnecessary. I can provide better food."

"Germany, is it right to play, when your house is on fire?"

"Your _house_ is not on fire," Germany replied, raising his voice. Norway stood abruptly, and opened the cupboard beneath the sink. He pulled out a keg, uncorked it and began pouring liberal amounts of it onto the floor. He splashed some on the curtains and moved back into the livingroom. Here he picked up the basket with his knitting and continued pouring the liquid, again splashing the curtains.

Germany has now gotten to his feet and followed him out in the hallway, watching in disbelief as the other splashed lamp oil into the rooms he passed. At this point the rug in the hallway was completely soaked. He emptied the keg at the threshold, and stepped out. Germany hurried after him and moved even further away from the house when Norway fished up a match from his pocket. He lit it against the wooden wall of the house.

"I do not play while my house is on fire," he spat, and threw the match over his shoulder and in through the door. The rug immediately caught fire, and soon the house was enveloped in flames. Norway simply hooked his arm through the baskets handle, and sauntered into the woods, as if he was taking a stroll after service a sunny Sunday afternoon.

Germany was left staring alternately at the ablaze house, and after the retreating back of the Norwegian nation. After a while he turned and walked back to his car, looking back at the burning house with a sigh. Maybe Norway really was as insane as Sweden and Denmark had claimed.

-:- -:- -:- -:- -:- -:- -:-

Translations:

Entschuldigung (ger) - Sorry

Guten morgen, Norwegen (ger) - Good morning, Norway

Ja, ja (ger/nor) - Yes, yes

Ja (ger/nor) - Yes

Bitte (ger) - Please

Notes:

This is set in 1941, in summer or early autumn. At this point most of Norway's sports teams were on a strike against all Nazi arrangements. This strike started in November 1940, and the first out where the wrestlers who refused to enter an audition for the national team. In January 1941 the ice skaters and the ski athletes, including Nordic skiing, ski jumping, alpine skiing and biathlon, refused to compete in the Norwegian Cup. A majority of Norwegian clubs and teams decided to enter a period of inactivity. The strike also included spectators, and betting, and was a success.

One of Norway's most famous ski jumpers, Birger Ruud, refused to participate in sports, and was therefore placed in the concentration camp Grini, outside of Oslo. The two responsible for this scheme, Olaf Helset, officer in the Norwegian army and leader of the Ski Union, and Rolf Hofmo, socialist and leader of the Worker's Sports Union were both forced to leave the country, albeit under different circumstances. Helset was sent to Sachsenhausen, where he sat in good company with two men who both would be elected Prime Ministers of Norway, while Hofmo managed to flee to Sweden.

The strike ended after the war.

Author's Note:

Am so tired…

An alarming number of these chapters are written between midnight and sunrise, and I'm beginning to feel the effects. I hope all the facts check out, but please inform me is something seems weird, or if there is any grammatical errors.

I am also always open for requests and ideas and other thing that could kill the monster known as Writer's Block.

Au revoir,

-Shrizyne


	23. Vigilantees and Vacations

Soldiers of Odin

Soldiers of Odin.

Soldiers of Allah.

What would be the next? Soldiers of Vishnu? Soldiers of … Why?

He poured a new cup of coffee from the thermos on his desk. Hopefully it would ward off the headache he could feel coming. With a sigh he slipped his feet out of his shoes and curled up in his chair. Why did humans insist on this ridiculous behavior, they really should learn from the past. Come to think of it, many of his colleagues were not much better, and they had lived that past.

Mm, coffee. Black gold.

Back to the problem at hand, was it even a problem? He supposed it was, vigilantees in the streets are seldom good news. Vigilantees. He turned his head and looked out of the window. He had really beautiful weather these days. The sun shone down with her brilliant, cold smile and the snow glittered back so it hurt the eyes. A school class was playing in the park, a couple of the boys had started a snowball fight as soon as the teacher turned away. He smiled and turned back to his work.

He really could not understand what they were trying to do. They wanted to make the streets safer at night? What was it… Oh yes, they were the gangs of poorly educated, violent, hooded guardians protecting the Norwegian people from the gangs of poor, violent, young muslim men with little or no education who haunted the streets at night with their hoods drawn down in their face.

Huh. The cup was empty. Strange, somehow it always came as a surprise.

Back to the problem at hand. For all their bluster, they would not amount to anything. They lacked the brains to create anything lasting, and the support to make it work. However, they did manage to create a whole lot of trouble.

He rubbed his eyes tiredly. Why did he even have a form in case of… What was it? He flipped the paper. Ah, there it is; "Evaluation of Peril caused by Vigilantees or similar". What was the point? At times he thought the government made up these bogus forms just to keep him busy. Stupid bureaucrats. Oh well, someday soon he would take a long holiday. Go somewhere fun, relax, maybe get a job at a bakery. Hm, sounds like a plan.

He refilled his cup and placed the form in a stack of finished papers for his secretary to get. The clock behind his secretary's desk showed 14.25 when he left the office. He waved good-bye to the lady, and whistled as he stepped out on the pavement. He had a holiday to plan.

-:- -:- -:- -:- -:-

No translations.

Notes:

Those of you who followed Norwegian news one (or two) years ago might remember this vigilantee group who called themselves 'Soldiers of Odin'. They had a couple of divisions in some of the bigger cities, but never really did anything.

He leaves the office at 14.25, because it is common in Norway to leave work early on a Friday afternoon.

I also think that they would occasionally find jobs outside of the government, in order to not go crazy. Sort of like a holiday.

Author's note:

I'm updating, but this was my back-up chapter. I was going to publish something else, but neither Sweden nor Denmark are cooperating, and it is very annoying.

Sees,

Shrizyne


	24. It's all Fun and Games

**Leik og moro**

"Big brother?" Norway hummed in answer and brought the axe down on the log, easily splitting it in two equal parts. He threw both of them in the growing pile of wooden logs. Another replaced the two pieces and Norway hefted the axe over his shoulder, before glancing at his little brother with an eyebrow raised.

"Can we go to the knattleikr tournament?" he asked, "Please?" Norway brought the axe down again with a resounding tchuck.

"And I assume you want me to compete?" he said, and hung the axe on a hook under the eaves of the roof, before turning to fully face the younger boy.

"Mhm," Iceland replied with a vigorous nod.

"Very well, then" Norway said, and stretched his arms up and behind him with a groan. "We better get going then.

" _After a long, arduous journey, filled with awesome magic, the most fearsome monsters and princesses to be saved, our two brave heroes finally arrive at the field on which the battle soon will be fought!"_ Norway chanted in his most dramatic story-teller voice. Iceland giggled.

"Nu-uh, one hero, you're my pony!"

"Ugh, fine! _Our brave hero and his proud steed,_ better now?"

"Uhuh."

"Good. We're here, you can get off of my back now."

"But I don't wanna!"

"I can't compete with you on my back."

"Yes, you can!"

"No."

"Yes!"

"No."

"YES!" Norway dumped the little one unceremoniously onto a tussock.

"Wait here," he said, and left. The night was still dark when he left. When he came back the sun created a light blue and yellow line across the eastern horizon. "See those men over there?" he asked and pointed. "That's the team I'll play on, the one with the yellow tunic is the captain."

Iceland looked at the strangers.

"They are really big," he said, making Norway laugh.

"They are," he nodded, "I'm pretty sure we're gonna win."

The match started at sunrise, both teams were lined up, facing each other, and all heads were turned eastwards. The judge stood between the lines, holding the little wooden ball out in front of himself. At the first glimpse of the sun he threw it into the air and dashed out of the matches borders. It wouldn't do to get caught in the middle.

Norway ignored the judge's scurrying, instead he tightened his grip on the bat and rushed to catch the ball. He was intercepted by a player from the other team, and took a hit to his side, but shook it off and set after the ball again. This time he ducked under the opponent's wild swing, and leapt up to smash his own bat into some guy's head, which sent the ball straight into the hands of his own teammates. The man fell heavily, and he smiled in satisfaction.

He was absorbed by the game, body driven by adrenaline and instinct as he dealt hard, fast blows to opponents and passed the ball on to his teammates. His ribs stung a bit, and he had blood running down his face, and blood stained his clothes, but he was grinning like a madman as he weaved his way through the chaos, hitting people at random and just having fun.

The tussocks cast long shadows when the judge called the match. Norway staggered off the muddied field and sunk down beside his little brother.

"Some match, eh," he whispered, still breathing heavy, and wincing as he came down from his adrenaline high. Knattleikr was fun, but the pain afterwards was, well, a pain.

"You won!" Iceland beamed, fidgeting as if he wanted to jump the older boy and hug him, but restraining himself because of the other's injuries. Norway rolled his eyes and opened his arms.

"Oh come here, you're too light to hurt me." The younger boy's smile grew impossibly large, and he jumped onto his brother and latched onto his neck as if his life depended on it. Norway grimaced in pain, happy that Iceland couldn't see it, then schooled his expression to the stony calm he was known for.

"I love you, little brother."

"Love you too, big brother," Iceland mumbled sleepily. Norway chuckled quietly and rocked him gently to sleep, humming a calm melody.

-:- -:- -:- -:- -:-

Translations:

Leik og moro (nor) - Games and fun

Knattleikr (norse) - Ballgame

Notes:

Knattleikr was a violent ballgame popular in Iceland, and I think it was played in the rest of the Norse nations too. Not all the rules are known, but what we know seems simple. You can play anywhere, grass, stone, ice, water, it doesn't matter. You need to place the borders of the match, and you're not allowed to step outside of those during the match. You play with two teams, each team has a captain.

The object of the game is to pass a wooden ball from teammate to teammate, and keep it away from the other team. You use a bat, an axe or something similar to hit the ball, and, since this is a contact sport, you're also allowed to hit your opponents. People died during these matches, and the law prohibited relatives from avenging these deaths. A match would usually last the entire day.

Author's note:

Late, I know. Still this stupid Writer's Block, I don't think anyone has found a cure yet. Anyway, I'll update as soon as I have anything, okay? And if you've got any requests, ideas or one-liners I could build a story around, then it'd be much appreciated.

Ta,

-Shrizyne


	25. Trå Fimpen

Trå fimpen

Norway had been reading in Denmark's library, when Iceland came in. At first the little boy had been sneaking around, trying to hide from his big brother, but after a while he gravitated towards the older nation.

Norway was sitting in one of the deep armchairs, his legs crossed and one of them bobbing in time to some unheard melody. Iceland stared at the foot wide-eyed, and slowly walked closer, hypnotized by the repetitive movement.

After a while his slow advance was noticed by the older nation, and Norway began sneaking glances at him over the edge of his book. A grin spread on his face as he watched his little brother approach like a moth drawn to the light. Iceland's face was scrunched up in the most adorably concentrated frown and his hand clenched around a wooden longship.

Finally the little boy was within reach, and with a cautious glance at his big brother he reached out to touch the bouncing leg. It moved away. Iceland furrowed his brow and tried again. He missed. Frustrated he took a small step forwards, and thus his fate was sealed.

The poor boy let out a startled 'eep' as he suddenly was grabbed, but it soon turned into shrieks of laughter when his brother tickled him. The thunk of the book hitting the floor went unnoticed as Norway struggled to keep the wriggling boy in his lap and tickle him at the same time. Laughter echoed off the walls and bookshelves, and Norway curled around Iceland, and placed an overly dramatic kiss on his brow. The he took the small hands in his own and let him slip over his knee and down his leg, until he settled on his foot.

"Hold on tight," he warned and little arms embraced his leg as Iceland stared at him in wide-eyed anticipation. Norway began singing, and bobbed the foot Iceland was sitting on in time to the song.

"Stamp fimpen, stamp fimpen,

While you're tiny and young..

When you grow old you'll be too heavy

And cannae no more stamp fimpen!"

He blinked and sighed, Iceland's laughter rang hollowly through his imagination. Sometimes he wished he could live in those rose-tinted days forever, but the golden-edged, yellowed memories would keep him going. He had many of them, an advantage of being old, he supposed, though pleasant memories were few and far between, he'd had plenty of time to create happy memories.

-:- -:- -:- -:- -:-

Notes:

Trå Fimpen is a nursery rhyme, I don't really know what else to say about it. The translation is not perfect, but it is accurate.

The whole memory thing is simply because most nations have lived a long time, and not all of it has been very pleasant. Of course they would cherish the peaceful and happy memories they make.

Author's note:

Sorry. This chapter was not supposed to be this late, but I still haven't been able to kill the Writer's Block.

Reviews, questions and requests are always appreciated.

Until next time,

\- Shrizyne


	26. True and Everlasting Love

A declaration of love

Excerpt from one of Norway's journals:

Note, 24/5-2012

I don't think you quite understand how important you are to me. You are the first thing on my mind in the morning, you are the last thing on my mind in the evening, I love every moment spent with you. I love how you are always exactly what I need, how everything about you is pure and perfect. My day is not complete without you. I know our relationship is simple, and that you now how much I love you. I know that neither of us is much for words, and that we don't really need them, but I wanted to show my appreciation for you, so I wrote you a poem. I know it is cliché, but so is my fairytale love for you.

Let my hands

Enclose you,

My lips taste you,

My soul imbibe you.

Let my body take part

In your warmth.

Let me delight in you,

Beloved cup of coffee

-:- -:- -:- -:- -:-

Notes:

The poem isn't mine, it is a Swedish poem by an unknown author that I found on a serviette, and it was originally written about a cup of tea.

Author's note:

That happened.

You are welcome to ignore this one-shot.


End file.
